Those Red Orbs
by QxzVIl
Summary: Stiles and Scott explore the woods after the police find half a body, and Stiles sees red orbs on his way home. Who they belong to, he's unsure. But he's certain of one thing; Derek Hale is involved somehow. Rated T for language, themes and some other stuff.
1. Chapter 1

The police had found half a body in the woods. Not exactly sure which half yet, but they had found it. But I was going to find it, maybe get some evidence on who it could be even. I mean sure, if my dad found me, I'd probably be dead, but I was willing to take the risk to find the body; whichever half that was.

"Stiles. Stiles!" I turned around to look at Scott, my best friend. "Listen, dude, if you keep screaming like that, I can most definitely bet that somebody is going to hear you." He just looked at me. "Who's going to hear us? We're completely alone out here." I shrugged. "I don't know, maybe the other half of the body might, and it'll come crawling here to kill us, tracking the sound of our voices."

"Wait, it can do that?" he exclaimed.

"No, of course it can't. It's cut in half, and probably lost a lot of blood in the process. Now would you shut up already!" we kept going after that, but he kept complaining.

"Stiles, I wanted to get a good night's sleep for tomorrow."

I scoffed. "Wait, why? You're always benched and whenever you ARE up to play, it's because half the team has been sent to the hospital. And plus, this is an opportunity we may never get again, whereas you, and possibly me, will be able to play this season maybe once. So, if you don't mind, shut it, and keep walking." Scott got quiet after that, making the only sounds around us a combination of crunchy leaves, our breath from climbing and the occasional animal sound.

When we came to the top of a hill, I stopped, putting my hand out to stop Scott; a row of flashlight beams were not too far in the distance. _The search party! Oh crap, Dad!_

"Get down!" I exclaim, throwing Scott down, and ducking quickly after that.

"Ow man, what the hell?! I think I'm going to have a concussion or something."

Yeah yeah, whine whine, I thought to myself. But I recovered from my thoughts. "Dude, do you want my dad to see us? Or do you like getting yelled at?" Scott just looked.

"Wait here. I'll divert them so you can get home. Don't want you in trouble for _the big moment _tomorrow." Scott rolled his eyes, before I ran off. I could hear footsteps behind me, signaling that he was following me. Not focusing on my surroundings, I slip and fall, right into the range of light. The guard dogs started barking, fighting against their leashes, but the police held strong. I heard scuffling in the background, which told me that Scott jumped behind a tree. Glad he did that, because this would have been even more awkward.

"Hold it..." Familiar voice; Dad. "This one, belongs to me." He exhaled, picking me up by the scruff of my neck.

"What are you doing here, son? Don't you know this is a private area?" I couldn't really concentrate on what my dad was saying, because it felt like I was losing feeling in my neck. "Well, you see I was..."

Dad rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know what this going to answer to. Son, the police have this under control." As he let me go, he stopped me. "Your normally not alone in these situations... where's Scott?"

"Dad, he's home. Wants to get a good night sleep before the big benching event tomorrow." I scoffed, laughing at my own joke inside my head. Dad, however, wasn't buying it.

"Scott? Are you out there?" No response, making my lie actually the truth. Or, at least partially.

"See Dad? I told you so... Now, can you please let me go home? It's kind of chilly out here." I said, rubbing my arms even through my jacket.

"Go straight home. No detours to Scott's or anywhere else. Okay?" I nodded, looking at him. He raised an eyebrow

"Do I need to walk you to your car?" I jump. "No no! I get it; straight home, no detours. I'm not a teenage girl, last time I checked..." dad rolled his eyes. I smiled as I walked back to my car, fishing for my keys, feeling yearning for my bed now. A few minutes later, I got back to my jeep, finally fishing my keys out of my back pocket. Weird, because I don't remember putting them back there.

Something didn't feel right though; like, something or someone was watching me. Couldn't be someone, because I doubt that there would be anyone out here, with the police snooping about. But I looked up anyways, to make sure I wasn't right. Then I saw them; glowing, red orbs that looked like _eyes__._ Being me, I almost flipped out.

But, they looked like they didn't hold threat. Or, like they even wanted to hurt me; they were just... _watching me._ So, like an idiot, I jingle my keys up, to show what I was doing, getting what seemed like two blinks, probably signaling that I was okay. So I got in my jeep, and drove off, wondering about those odd red eyes, and who they belonged to.


	2. Chapter 2

(Hi everyone, and thanks for the reviews~ I meant to say where the time frame was and such, but alas, I forgot to include it. So I'm doing so now~

This is set post S2, but during S1. So, the hunters probably won't have any influence on this story whatsoever. I will probably bring them up in reference, but I won't have actual characters in the story... Okay, enough rambling! Let's just get on with this)

Something was off about those red eyes that were something that can't be explained normally. I mean, who do I know-or rather, who do I think-would have eyes like that? The only person who I thought could even remotely fit that was Derek Hale, a guy who moved near the local art school, out of this area. So, I don't know why he would be here, now, while the police are hunting for this half of the body. I don't even know why there even is an interest coming back here, what with his whole family burning down in that fire.

Well, there goes that idea, I answer silently. I check my phone, to see if Scott had sent me a text back. "No new messages" reads the screen. Yawning, I sleepily chide him for not returning my messages, and will have to pay him back later... Payback. I like the sound of that. Soon I drifted off to sleep, the thought of red eyes and half missing bodies disappearing.

The forest was dark. Like, a deafening dark with the only light being the slight reflectiveness of the tree bark. I couldn't place what kind of tree it was; my guess if I had to though, was either a maple tree or an oak tree. But these aren't common in California. Redwoods are more common than either of those.

Bah, getting all specific here. There I go again! I start walking towards the trees, seeing that it's the only thing that I can make out in this darkness. I hear this noise, and I think it's human. The tree isn't that wide, so I go around it. What I do see when I go around it shocks me; well, shocks me, then gets me a little bit more than excited; I see Lydia, my crush of ten years, on the forest floor. But she's naked, covered with dead leaves and mud and... She's _pleasuring_ herself. I, of course, don't look away, because Hey! There is my long time crush making herself feel like the woman in the middle of a dark, most likely dead, forest.

She's making these noises, like it's the most incredible feeling in the world to her. Funny, because her boyfriend, Jackson, isn't here, so it can't be the most incredible feeling in the world; or, maybe it is, I wouldn't exactly understand how that feels. Ugh! Pull it together, I chide myself. I take my eyes away, and then I look back at her. She's stopped, turned her head to me. Opening her eyes, they reveal...  
PENIS! :D (jk jk, XD)

They reveal the red orbs I've seen the night before. I gasp, taking a few steps back. She's on me in no time, staring up into my own brown ones. She smiles, lips parting to speak. "What's wrong, Stiles? Not afraid, are you? Not afraid of the Big. Bad. Wolf." Then she opened her mouth, revealing canines and went in to sink her teeth into me...

I awoke, screaming, panting and sweating, and screaming some more. I looked around at my room, illuminated by the sun, just starting to rise again, stating that I most likely had a nightmare, but it was over now. I calmed down, thankfully, after staring at the sun for a few moments, when a new sensation emerged. Why do I feel _wet?_ I ask to myself. Throwing back the covers, well... I can see the result of what happened with Lydia. I had never had a wet dream except, well, except for now. I hear steps come up the stairs, my dad pushing the door open.

"Son, I heard you scream. Is everything alright?" He looked concerned, like something seriously bad happened.

I laugh. "Yeah dad, just having wet dreams like a normal teenager! Nothing like it." He groans and covers his face, the slight twinge of relief showing in his face.

He asked through his mouth "Do I want to know what it was about?" I scoffed, standing up. "Nah, I think we can leave that one uncharted territory... It did involve Lydia though, if that's what you mean."

He waved his hand, trying to keep his mind as clean as possible. "No no, that's quite alright son. You better clean up before school today. I'll see that, uh... your sheets get a good-

"Disinfecting?" I cut him off; He nodded, like it's the right word to use. I grin to go in for a hug, but he pulls back. Wait, that's right, I'm covered in my non-born children, and I doubt he wants to get any of that business upon himself. I settle with a pat on the shoulder before going to shower.

I get to school about five minutes before Scott does, who looks about the same as the night before, if not a little bit more healthy looking. "So? What happened to you last night, bud?" I questioned, following his pace as he walked.

"Well, nothing much. Except, that, well..." He stopped, looked at me, with a smile. "...I found the other half of the body."

I flipped out. "Dude, are you serious?! Oh my god, I think I-I think I love you man. Like, seriously." I gave him a bro hug, patting him hard on the back. "Where did you find it?" I say, putting my arms on his shoulders, looking straight at him.

He cleared his throat. "Well, I found it right around the place I dropped my inhaler. Which, by the way, we need to go and get; that thing is like, seventy bucks to replace."

I nod. "Yeah, yeah, sure man. Wait, w-what half was it? Top or bottom?" I stated, wriggling my eyebrows. He punched me in the arm, laughing. "It was the top half. Sorry about your desires of being dominant, Stiles, guess you'll have to get lucky elsewhere." He must have thought that was the most hilarious thing ever, because he started howling like a wolf with laughter. I roll my eyes, and start walking. "Yeah, well, don't see you getting any sometime soon. I wouldn't be saying anything." Just then, the bell rang, making us drop our little game.

As we went to enter the building, something caught the corner of my eye. As I looked again, I saw someone peering out from the side of a tree. They flashed away before I could make out what it was, but it looked human-like. I shook my head, thinking it was just leftover adrenaline from the previous night. Maybe English class will take my mind off of it.

Turns out it didn't, because I couldn't stop thinking about what that could have possibly been; a trick of the eye? An animal maybe? Or could it have been human? Or maybe I was just seeing things, like I thought I had? I was lost in my own world, so I didn't see the new girl sit next to us. I look at her, then to Scott handing her a pen, then back to her. There was a shift in his mood, his body language, and his emotions, which I had only seen one time before; whenever I see Lydia walk by. I smiled to myself, looking back out the window.

There it was again; that trick of the eye! Only, it stayed longer, so I could make out some sort of shape. It definitely wasn't nothing; wasn't a trick of the eye, I could see it clearly. Animal? No fur or feathers. Or claws, for that matter. Then it must be human. Female? No, too broad, even for a female. Definitely male, wore mostly leather, hair to the darker spectrum, most likely, but nothing else besides that.

I obviously wasn't paying attention to hear my name be called twice. "Mr. Stilinski!" I hear, snapping out of my daze, to look at the teacher, as well as everyone around me staring. "Is there SOMETHING you'd like to show us?" he asked, looking testy. I look back out the window, and he's gone. I look down, back to the teacher and say "no, sir... I was just, daydreaming about what wonderful things we're going to learn in your class this semester."

Buying my BS, he smiled, and then grew stern. "Don't let me catch you staring off again, Mr. Stilinski." I nodded, setting my head down on my desk; Scott giving me a _What was it?_ look. I shrug, returning with an _I don't really know_ look. That was the end of our communication until lunchtime.

By Lunchtime, we're walking around in the deep part of the forest, looking everywhere for Scotts inhaler. When it seems like we were in the right area, we kept on walking, deeper and deeper until nothing but trees surrounded us. This place looked vaguely _familiar,_ I thought to myself. Scott seemed troubled, like we've gone too far.

I exhaled, looking at him. "Dude, we've been walking for what feels like more than an hour, and I doubt we'll make it back in time for fourth period. Can we please come back some other time?" He kept quiet. "Fourth period is gym, remember?" He slowed his pace a bit. "Gym tryouts for Lacrosse?" Stopping fully. _Thank god _I thought to myself.

"Okay, _I swear_ it was right here. I know it had to be right here." Scott got on his hands and knees', digging around in the piles of dead leafs, While he was looking on the ground, I was looking around, admiring the changing autumn colors, when I looked dead ahead; there stood a man, who not only intimidated me, but took my breathe away. I could recognize his face in a crowd; Derek Hale.

Scott noticed my stillness, which is only characteristic of when I was on my meds three years ago, and looked up. He stood almost immediately, and quicker, might I add, than I was used to. Derek glanced over to him, studying him quickly, before looking back at me, eyes boring into me.

His voice was deep, and scratchy, when he spoke. "What are you doing here?" He inquired, taking a few steps toward us. "This, is private property." He dragged out the first word; spoke with clarity with the rest. Oh gosh, he has a really nice face. _Stop it, Stiles__._

Scott spoke up. "We were, just uh... Looking for my inhaler I dropped yesterday." As if on cue, Derek tossed Scott his inhaler from his pocket, who catches it perfectly, turned, and walked away. My eyes, for some reason, gravitated towards his back end, and how well those jeans sat and moved on him. I, again, so entranced in his rear end, that when I looked up, Derek was looking right at me, over his shoulder.

I jumped, turned a full one eighty and leaned on the nearest tree, acting as nonchalantly as I could. His gaze lingered for a moment; before he turned his head back around and kept walking. Scott waited about two seconds before busting up, howling once more at what just ensued.

"Oh come off it" I said, rolling my eyes. "If you had a back like that, you'd be begging to have it looked at too." I started off back the way we came, Scott catching up to me in a moment. "Okay, _seriously_ dude; you have got to explain to me how you are getting so fast." He shrugs, which makes me laugh. "Well, at least you'll be well prepared for gym. If we make it back in time, that is."

Turns out that we did make it back in time, but only barely; everyone else was almost changed by the time we entered the room. The sight of this after seeing Derek Hale was somewhat pale in comparison. But, it's always nice to see something nice during your day. Coach was grilling everyone on how much he expected from everyone, especially Jackson, how it wasn't going to be easy, blah blah blah. I tune out about ninety five percent of it, knowing there is no chance of me getting on the team.

I put on the rest of my gear as we head outside, me taking the usual bench seat and getting it nice and warm. The best I could do is give moral support to Scott, talk to whoever got benched for injuries, or just watch the try-outs. Scott was really good; I mean, he was incredible even. That amount of _strength_ is amazing; I'm even a little surprised. Then I saw his gaze focus on something in the background. I saw it was that new girl, who I had yet to find out the identity of. Danny was limping over to me, sporting a minor leg injury, and sat down. He didn't have a broken mouth though, so I asked.

"Hey, Danny... Who's that new girl over there?" He looked over.

"Brown hair? That's Allison Argent. Just moved here from San Francisco. Already hanging out with Lydia though, never a good sign." I raised an eyebrow to him.

He continued. "She's already basically best friends with her, and is invited to her party on Friday."  
"Already?" I asked, looking at him. He's got to be joking, but he just nodded his head. "They're basically inseparable, the two of them. Scott seems to have taken interest though." He shook his head to the field, to show Scott getting up from a fall, eyes still on Allison.

I gestured for him to _keep his eye on the ball!_ and he just shrugged, and got back on it. He was scoring goal after goal, even surpassing Jackson, which was subject to not only Lydia's cheering, but what seemed to be Allison's cheering also. Scott had eyes for Allison only, and I could see that this was starting something. Coach was even so proud of Scott that he made first string, making the two fangirls cheer even louder. All the team rushed in-even Danny with his bum leg-to congratulate Scott.

I also went to get up to congratulate him, but when I looked, I saw him again; Derek, standing just behind a tree, surveying the area. But instead of the area, he seemed to only be looking in my direction. When I leaned back to look, I ended up falling over, hitting the ground with an audible _oomph!_

"Stilinski!" Coach yelled. "What the hell are you doing?" I sat up, looking back again. Derek was gone, once more, out of sight. I looked back at Coach, who looked like he was expecting an answer, eyebrows raised eyes slightly wide. "I...thought I saw, a spider?" I weakly offered. I hid my embarrassment as the team started laughing. _Okay, Derek,_ I think. _It's time to see what you really are doing._

When I got home, Dad was sitting at the table, reading an open file about the recent body they found. When he saw me, he closed the file and rubbed his eyes, downing the last eighth of his Jack Daniels.

"Hey son." he said, face lighting up from his usual stressed face to a slightly happier one. When my mom passed away when I was younger, we both suffered hard from it. But we both had each other through the tough times, so we slowly got better.

"Hey dad... How is the case going?" I inquire, pulling up a chair.

"Well, there isn't much to go on; her body was cut in two at the waist, and we only found half of it." He rubbed his face, trying to get rid of the stress on his back. It's tough, being the chief police officer.

"Sorry about all this stress Dad... If I could help in some way, I'd be happy to." I offered, looking at him.

He smiled. "Thanks son, but I think we can handle it. At least the public doesn't know about it, right?" we both chuckled at the thought, letting this whole situation go into the back of our minds.

"Son, go get cleaned up for dinner, and we can talk about your first day back to school."

"I like that idea."

Dinner was steak, one of the few things that Dad actually knew how to make well. I talked about Lacrosse, of course not getting on the team, but how Scott made first line, which was a good time; we had a new girl in our class, who Scott is really gaga over; and finally, about how classes went. Of course, I left out the part with Derek Hale; I don't know how he would react to that. But, one less thing to have to worry about.

"Well, son, it sounds like it's about the same as last year, right?" I nodded, finishing the last bite of steak and setting down my fork.

"Yeah, well, when it's me, I don't change things that are right the first time. Although, I would have liked to make it onto the team, maybe talk to some more new people, possibly slam Lydia up against the locker an-" Dad swung his arm, stopping me.

"You're not trying to tell me about your 'previous incident' this morning, are you?" I choke on the water I had previously sucked down, going into a coughing fit.

When I finally did get enough air back into my lungs, I set my cup down. "Dad, no! I mean, it's far too Pg-13 rated to be one of my dreams. Which, you don't want to hear about either." He shook his head, declaring himself "good" in that department.

Anyways, I told dad he could go and watch sports or something, while I cleaned up. When that was done, I told my dad I was going to turn in early, so I could get away for a little bit. He said alright, and bid me goodnight, which gave me a good amount of freedom; Dad doesn't linger, which is something that I was more than happy about.

After I was alone, I booted up my laptop and went to work. "Alright, let's see here... Let's see, let's see, let's see" I chanted to myself, typing into my computer random things that interested me; that grumpy cat meme, the newest comedy video from that one channel on YouTube I like so much, research about glowing, red eyes, checking Facebook and Twitter... Oh wait, one of those doesn't fit, I don't think. _Oh well, I suppose._

As I sat in bed, trying to get to sleep, I had the creeping suspicion that I was being spied on again; like all day with Derek. Several times, I would jump up, because I thought I saw something, but when I checked my window, nothing was there. By about the thirteenth time I checked, I had had enough.

"Okay, whoevers there, or Derek." I spoke the second one more quietly, because I thought it was impossible. "I know you've been spying on me all day, and I would really like to get to sleep tonight, so if you don't mind, stop watching over me like some creep. And if you don't, well, my dad's got a loaded gun just downstairs." Just then, a note flew under my windowsill; well, it wasn't so much a note, but foreign bill-Twenty Euros in fact- folded in half.

When I picked it up, it read:

"Who said I was spying? I'm simply keeping an eye on you. Now stop worrying about me and go to sleep."


	3. Chapter 3

"Dude, you seem extremely happy for some reason" Scott observed, as my semi-grin was still on my face as English class went on.

"Yeah, well... I had a good night." I replied, shading the rest of the monster ripping off the poor guy's head from my page doodle.

"Oh yeah?" Scott replied. "Do tell, because I'm dying to know." I shook my head. "Nah man; this is my bit of info. You can just form your own ideas of what happened, and be happy with it." Scott didn't like that answer; he huffed and turned back to the front, crossing his arms. But really, last night was pretty cool...

The fact that Derek was watching me personally, kind of gave me some good feelings. Okay, not like _those_ kinds of feelings, but I felt... I don't know, safe I guess. Most people would be creeped out, even a bit terrified, but I liked it. I still even had his note in my wallet, not wanting to let it go just yet.

When I woke up this morning, I had found another note from him, on yet another Euro. It read "You talk in your sleep. I thought that stuff stopped when you closed your eyes," earning another smile from me. Guy was mysterious, but he had a sense of humor. Dad seemed to notice my good mood, because he looked up from his paper with raised eyebrows.

He furrowed them after a few moments. "You didn't, uh, have any weird dreams again did you?" Ensues face palm from me, a shrug from my dad, and then laughter. And that was another, as I wish it was, normal morning in the Stilinski house.

Scott was leaning back over when I snapped out of my thoughts. "Anyways, dude, you're going to be at Lydia's party tonight, right?" I shook my head, him looking at me with fear.

"I already told you, man; I picked up the weekend shift for the coffee shop. And no, I can't get out of it, if that's what you were going to ask. Emily would strangle me senseless if I didn't show." Oh no, not the puppy eyes.

"Man, this is my first date with-" The English teacher turned around, both of us going back to the assigned reading; I had already finished it, so I was doodling to pass the time. When he turned back around, Scott looked at me.

"It's my first date with Allison; I need moral support. Please dude, I'm begging you." Scott was my best friend, but I could shirk my responsibilities all the time.

"I'd love to go; really, I would. I mean, for god sakes, its Lydia even. But, Emily needs me. And she's already gone through two weeks of weekend traffic alone." Glance at the teacher, not noticing us. "I don't want to leave her a third time. Tell me how it goes, okay?" He nods, closing the argument for good. I just hope that he'll forgive me when the time comes.

Scott apparently thought that my mind would change by the time school ended and I was getting ready for my job. Cross legged on my bed, he begged a few times even. The answer was still no, after each one.

"Stiles, I'm still nervous as hell. I mean, look at me; I've got knots in my stomach even! Here, feel them," he said, reaching out for my hand. I scoffed, pulling on the last shoe and yanking my hand away. "Dude, I know you have a tight core; I've seen enough of it in the Locker Room, trust me. But, I don't need to think about the touch all throughout working, alright?" Scott's eyebrow rose a bit.

"What, do you have a little crush on me or something? I thought you were straight, dude!" he said. I shrugged.

"Just because I like girls doesn't mean I'm not open to anything else. I'm an open book, I guess."

"You mean like an open book to Derek?" He inquired, me stopping halfway throughout tying my other shoe. I turned to look at him.

He laughed. "Just kidding, dude. Seriously, he's a creep!" Laughter fills the room, me nervously joining in. After I had finished getting ready, I officially kicked Scott out so he could go get ready for his date. "Dude, just remember; Deodorant, Fresh breath and Protection." I smiled, him looking at me even more horrified. "Joking. Totally joking. I doubt she's a 'first date' kind of person. Just be you!" I paused, thinking about that sentence. "Well, not the clumsy, socially awkward you; the cool, calm and collected you. She already likes you, I can tell," I added, putting my hand on his shoulder reassuringly. "So, just don't act weird and you will be alright. Alright?" He nodded, smiling. Gosh, if he weren't straight and my best friend, I'd have to reconsider. I shook the thought out of my head and gave him a one armed hug, shooing him off to get prepared. While for me, I was going to face the brunt of weekend art students and lovey dovey couples. Joy.

When I got there, Erica looked more than relieved about me being there; after nearly being late, she was just happy to not be facing this alone. I threw on my apron and hat, pulling the full barista look, before Erica hugged the breath out of me; after she got her seizures under control, as well as the epilepsy, she really turned into a beautiful person.

"Thank god, I was about to have a freak out if you hadn't showed up!" She dug her nails into my forearm, obvious payback for the last two weeks. "If you hadn't, well, I was going to hunt you down myself and drag you into work." She took a breath, removing her hand. "You ready to go?" I nodded, actually quite excited to start, even surprising myself.

I forgot why I enjoyed this job; Erica was good. Like, really _really_ good. She taught me everything I know, and always make sure that we work together during our shifts. And we gel too; she can start a conversation with me about my life, stop it at the right time to talk to customers, and pick it right back up when we were working on another order.

She knew the people too, introducing me to them as we went along, so that we both had regulars. I would throw in a cookie or a shot of espresso sometimes, earning me extra tips in the process. In short, Erica and I are the dream team. And nothing, except maybe Derek Hale, could throw me off my game.

And, sadly, that was just about to be tested. As we were nearing the end of traffic, in walks "Tall, Dark and Handsome" himself. Erica makes a sound in the back of her throat, turning around to clean something. "Shut it. Keep calm, he's just another customer." She said, putting the towel in the sink. _Yeah, a totally hot and undateable customer _I thought to myself. Putting on my friendliest face, I looked at him.

He seemed confused, like he didn't expect me here. "What are you doing here?" He inquired, shoving his hands in his pocket.

"Well, I work here. I had to pick up the weekend shift because I skipped last week, and I thought that-" he held up a hand, stopping me.

"I get it; you're picking up the slack from not working for two weeks." I nod, not liking how he used the phrase "picking up the slack." But, couldn't be helped, and I was here to do my job.

"So, what can we start for you?" _Good looking,_ I added quietly in my head.

"Get me a..." he thought about it." Large black coffee, cream and sugar on the side with a triple shot of espresso." I raised my eyebrows at the espresso amount, him rolling his eyes. "It's going to be a long night, I need the energy." I shrugged, writing the order down. "Anything else with that? Cookie? Sandwich?" _My number?_

He just shook his head, a hint of smile in the corner in his mouth. "I'm fine. Thank you though." I nod and get started on it. Erica's looking at me, giving me her _damn, what a piece of ass_ look. I scoffed at her, replying with a _you're telling me_ look. As I was going, I threw in a few things that he may like; a splash of milk, a sprinkle of cinnamon and something else I can't quite say. Before I filled the cup, I wrote "thanks for watching me the few nights ago; I felt a little safer after what happened the night before. Enjoy!" after it was full, I set the drink down, with the cream and sugar next to it.

He came up to pay for it, pulling out a really old fashioned wallet; the leather was beyond worn out, and it looked like it dated back to the first year wallets were ever in stock. Typical me, though, it took Derek clearing his throat for me to break of my stupor. I shook my head and put the money in the cashier. "Here, your change" I said, but he shook his head. "Keep it. Don't worry about it" he said, grabbing his sugar and creamer, pouring it in at the right amounts.

He took a sip and... It looked like he had an "oh my god "moment. _Shit,_ I thought to myself. _I messed it up; now he'll never talk to me again. Stupid, Stiles! Stupid! _when he opened his eyes, he looked at me. "Just a second" he muttered, pulling out a Euro and writing on it. He slipped it into the tip jar and held up his cup to me. "Have a nice night" he replied, turning and leaving.

Erica bust up laughing, clutching her sides and maybe even getting a tear in her eye. "You sh-should hav-have... Seen your f-f-face!" she had to sit to regain composure.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh please, you were the one who gave me a 'oh, Derek; you should totally spread me wide and do me on the counter." This made her laugh even harder.

"You are WAY too late for that one, buddy boy!" My eyes opened wide, making her gasp for air. I let her laugh herself out, before continuing. "Did you really?" I asked, looking at her. She nodded, giving me her cocky smile face.

I scoffed. "Damn, I was hoping to help him lose his virginity." I added, giving a rejected snap as if I was really disappointed. She went into another fit of giggles after that, but it wasn't that bad. "Well, you snooze, you lose babe." She said, pulling me into a hug; even though she was a total tease, she was still a very good friend of mine.

As the shop closed, we both decided to split the tips before we left. Forty-two bucks for her, seventeen for me. Unfair, maybe, but she was my superior, and I let her have more than me. She pulled out the Euro, handing it to me. "It's for lover boy" she chided, giggling as I rolled my eyes. When I unfurled, I think my heart skipped a beat:

"Do you have time for coffee with me tomorrow or something? Maybe on your break? And that, was the best drink I've ever had, by far. Thanks for that.  
-Derek."

I'm pretty sure my face was red like a lobster, to which Erica reached over to read it. I snatched it out of her grasp, to which she whined. "I'm the superior! I'm the superior!"

"Nope. This is mine" I say, tucking it into my back pocket. She huffed, before getting up.

"You always get to have fun." She gathered her stuff, getting ready to leave.

I scoffed her. "Really? You got to take a ride on that man; I doubt it's me who's having fun here." She snorted, resorting into yet another fit of giggles. I waved as I left, leaving her to catch her breath and lock up. Derek liked me enough, apparently, to want to spend time with me. Maybe this won't be so _disastrous,_ I thought to myself as I unlocked my car. Or it might end in disaster, like all good things that come my way.

I sure hope it was the first one.


	4. Chapter 4

(Hey everyone~ So, I don't know if you noticed or not, but I've switched the fic over to a T rating instead of an M rating. I'm doing this in foreshadowing, because I think it'll help me later on. How will it help in the future? Well, you will just have to wait and see ;) Enjoy!)

This was probably a very good turn of events, even for Stiles; mostly because Derek Hale, the guy who was the most gorgeous man I've ever laid eyes on, has just asked me on a "date." This was odd for me, because, well, me being an awkward virgin and a loner, I'm probably going to screw this up royally. But, it was only coffee, so I don't think it could go as badly as I think it will. You never know until it actually happens, I guess though.

It was Lunchtime, and everyone was cooing over each other's significant others; Scott with Allison and Jackson with Lydia. I'm a little surprised those two were sitting with us, but since Lydia WAS Allison's best friend, its explanatory. I was the fifth wheel in this situation, but cars don't ever have five wheels, so I was okay with being the odd one out. When Scott and I were alone- Allison was dragged off by Lydia to talk about girl stuff- he turned straight to me, grinning.

"Dude, last night was so great! I mean, aside from the end of it, but it was great for the most part!" He exclaimed, sitting back in his seat, looking more than excited.

"Great man, I'm happy for you. But what happened at the end? Did you get an unexpected boner?" I snorted at his expression, him almost falling out of his chair.

I wasn't going to screw up anything with Allison!" he scratched his head, before continuing. "The end was where I had to leave. For some reason, I had this... I don't know, feeling like I was changing into something else..." he stopped, looking at my face. "Okay, what is it man?"  
I was trying not to laugh. "Oh, nothing it's just... it's just the symptoms of a hormonal teenager turning into a man. Did you check for hair in odd places? Voice deepening?" By then I was laughing too hard to state any more responses.

"Dude, really!" Scott's voice cracked during that one, making me laugh even harder.

"I rest my case, man. Without a doubt, Allison has an effect on you." The bell rang at that point, leaving this conversation for another time. And by another time, I meant during sixth period.

Scott was fidgeting with the test tubes, trying to get the right mixture stated in the hand out. Sadly, he added too much of this and too little of that, causing what seemed to be a melting and re-crystallization of the test tube. He got a C for doing something cool, but not following the assignment.

"Dude... Tell me what else happened at the party. What happened _after_ you left?" I inquired, him turning around.

"Well, Allison hated me slightly for that, but she got a ride home, so I didn't feel like a total ass..." he shrugged and went back to whatever he was doing.

"Wait, who gave her a ride home? Was it Jackson? Or her dad?" Scott shook his head.

"No, it was Derek actually. He drove her home at... a little past nine, I think." I looked at him incredulously.

"That's impossible, man. Derek was at the coffee shop right before nine. And you know that's a thirty minute drive from my place to work, maybe on a good day. No way could have driven there in ten minutes, even when breaking the speed limit." The thought was impossible; no way, by any means, could he make that, even by breaking the speed limit by a huge amount.

Unless... No, it couldn't be. Impossible. There was no way things like that could happen. Or, could they?  
The word felt foreign as I wrote it on a piece of paper, staring at it for longer than was necessary.

Werewolf.

What was Derek Hale? Or, better yet, _what is_ Derek Hale?

I was skimming through my computer, biding time until I had to work, to see what I could dig up; things about red eyes, super speed, and heightened senses. I also cross referenced that with werewolves; urban legends, myths, history of it, things of the such. What I found didn't make much sense, even for my hyperactive mind. The only thing that made sense was the fact they were, and still are, extremely dangerous, and were hunted into extinction because of this. I exhaled angrily, not liking how this wasn't going in my favor. Not needing any more of this, I turn it off and head out.

Having my so called "date" tonight with Derek wasn't going to help the fact that he was possibly dangerous, and could tear my throat out at any given second. Although, the feeling of him throwing me against a wall might be nice... hot breath against my neck, ragged breathing, hands roaming that body, adrenaline racing...

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, snapping out of my funk. _Get it together, Stiles_ I thought to myself. _No need to get a hard-on before we even lay eyes on him_. I mean, it's not like I get them anyways; at least, not when he's around. Or, something... Gah, here I go, being all awkward again. That's me for ya, though, I guess.

As I put my car into park and got out, something caught my eye; the gleam of a shiny coat of polish. Looking over, I spotted about the nicest looking, well-kept black Camaro I have ever seen; seriously, like, this is so beautiful and so spotless, it hurts to look at. Then you compare it to my piece of shit jeep, and I don't even feel like standing in its presence. _I wonder who it belonged to,_ I thought to myself as I walked away to head to work.

Erica noticed my silence, huffing when I wouldn't start replying to her every word. I mean, it was even affecting the quality of the drinks. "Okay, Stilinski. You are going to tell me what the _hell_ is going on with you, before we send another regular away with an unhappy face." She slammed down the bowl of chai she was mixing, looking at me intently in the face, waiting for an answer.

I shrugged. "I don't know, there has just been a lot of weird stuff going on. Like, first off with Derek, being all weird and stuff... And then school, and trying to graduate, and keeping up with a social life, and-" Erica cuts me off, holding up a hand.

"You mean, Derek is being a total mystery to you because you barely know a thing about the guy except his family was burned down in a fire, and that his brother Peter is somewhere in Ireland, he's a college art student and he is your first relationship, ever?" For some reason, this reminded of me of House Bunny when she says all those things to the police officer, and that makes me laugh. Plus, she was blonde and had relatively large breasts, so she resembled her even more so!

"Okay, what is funny?" she asked, smirking slightly.

"You remind me of Anna Faris in House Bunny, in that one part. And really, that about sums it up; Derek is what is the problem right now, not school or friends or my social life, because I had those even before I saw Derek for the first time." I shrug, looking back at her.

"Well, just know that he's due any moment for his regular "Eight fifty-nine coffee" so perk up." I don't know how she knew that, but next thing I know, Derek walks in with... a girl. And a beautiful one at that. She stands a few inches shorter than him, and she wore a lot of layers; like me. She had the bubbly, happy expression on her face and was clinging onto Derek's arm like a lovestruck teenage girl with her first boyfriend. Derek wore the look of "oh god, is this really happening right now?" look, making me smirk to myself, before turning back to them.

"Hey guys, what can we get started for you?" The girl giggled, bending down slightly to look at all the pastries they offered, Derek looking back to me. I could tell he wouldn't be able to spend time with me tonight, so I shrugged my shoulders and left it as is.

They ordered two of whatever I made Derek yesterday, because apparently Kate, the girl's name, was so wanting to try it since Derek had it, that she wouldn't have anything else. She also had a pretty expensive pastry, to Derek's dismay. When they had their coffee and treat, they sat down, Derek not really paying attention to Kate as she yammered on about classes and her life, and how thankful she was that he was taking her out, giving her a break from the daily grind.

What she wasn't catching was that he kept shooting glances over to my direction, me returning them with an apologetic smile. It wasn't until she went into her coffee that things kind of took a turn. She took a sip, smacking her lips slightly, before pushing it away.

"You made it sound far better than it actually is," she said, giggling at her little "joke."

"Quiet" Derek snapped, glaring at her. She shook her head.

"I thought this could work, but you are obviously impossible. Thanks for the crappy coffee; I obviously wasted my time on the wrong person." She grabbed her purse and jacket, taking her cookie and walking out. He breathed a sigh of relief, obviously happy that was over.

He comes up to me, putting a tip in the jar, a slightly apologetic look on his face. "Sorry about her; she's a girl in my Anatomy Basics II class, and she just happened to hear that I was getting coffee after class. She practically begged even," rolling his eyes.

"Really? That's funny; having to tag along with whatever you are doing to get into your pants. I see it countless times at school." his face was a mix of pity and disbelief.

"Are you for real?" I nod, him putting his face in his hands. "I thought my generation was bad..." I snort, shaking my head. "I think each generation is bad in its own way. It's normal," I shrug.

Just then Erica sets down my favorite drink in between us, scooting next to me to whisper in my ear. "Go take your break now. I can handle the counter alone while you talk to the sex in front of us." She looked up to see him staring at her, head cocked to the side slightly. She winked and looked back at me. "Just promise me that you won't ask about us. That needs to stay in the dark." She elbowed me in the side and went off to finish mixing the chai she had been mixing previously.

"Want to sit?" Derek offered, me nodding. I take off my apron and hang it up, taking the seat previously inhabited by Kate. I could see why she wanted to have coffee with him; he was someone who filled the space around him. It wasn't just because he was broad, and had probably plenty of muscles to fill out the space. No, what made him fill the space was he had an aura about him. A radiating, quivering aura about him that wavered with power, and strength. I don't know what that was all about, but it made me feel safe with him.

"So, you want to know about me and Erica?" I set my drink down, looking at him. Also because I haven't been able to get this drink for, like, ever; large decaf Caramel Chocolate Frappuccino with whipped cream, caramel, chocolate sauce and sprinkles to top it off. This thing is like an orgasm in the mouth. And I knew that if it wasn't decaf, I'd be bugging out all over the store. Gosh, Erica takes such good care of me.

"What do you mean if I want to know about you two? And how did you know about that?" I quirk an eyebrow up, feeling slightly weirded out. He shakes his head.

"Trust me; no matter how much Erica _thinks_ she talks quiet, I could still hear her from across the room. I know this first hand..." He sips his coffee, looking out the window.

_Yeah, I know, she told me,_ I say to myself.  
"I heard that." Derek said, still looking out the window. I freak out, arms flailing and me almost falling out of my chair.

"Dude, really! Don't scare me like that!" I calm my beating heart, puffing out air, and then going on to glare at him. "If you are going to say something, look in my general direction first."  
Derek scoffed. "Yeah, okay. And while I speak in your general direction, you'll be thinking about some other non-related subject."  
"Huh? Did you say something?" I asked, grinning and winking at him. Soon we forgot all about him and Erica and delved into a healthy combo of both intelligent and stupid topics; the very best kind. Derek was busy talking about how many people didn't know the three different muscles in the neck when Erica interrupted him, asking me for help on a huge order. Erica is very efficient with work, but sometimes she can't handle things on her own. I excused myself to help her fill the order.

Seriously, who needs sixteen different types of coffee at ten at night? Ugh, what a nightmare. Anyways, after the huge order of coffees, the shop was ready to close. Derek offered to walk me to my car, so I said okay. Erica gave me my share of tips- 17 dollars and fifty cents- and sent me off with a good night. As I stood in front of it and pulled my keys out, he said he needed to get something out of his car. He walked in the direction of... Oh no.

*beep beep*

Couldn't be...

*Click*

Oh my god...

That Camaro belonged to Derek. That beautiful, shiny, powerhouse of a car belonged to Derek. He was looking for something in the backseat, all the while I was staring at his backside sticking out of the car. _Pull it together, Stiles_ I told myself quietly. I started up my car, staring forward, not sure what I was feeling right now. I didn't know I was heavily breathing, until my windshield was foggy. I exhaled, turning the defrosters on, steadying myself as best as I could.

When I looked, Derek was gone, and his car was empty. I quickly took a piece of paper and scribbled a note of my own, then pulled in front of his car, putting the note on his windshield, sticking it behind the wipers so it didn't get blown off. Maybe Derek wasn't into me, and he was just being friendly, but I had plans of my own to do.


	5. Chapter 5

I didn't see Derek the next day at the shop. In fact, I hadn't heard or seen of him all week. Part of me was starting to worry that I _did_ offend him, or scare him away. It wasn't until the next week after, two weeks before my birthday, that I saw him.

It was during sixth period, Chemistry, that I asked; Danny was working with Jackson, who hadn't been seen in a couple of days by anybody. And this assignment? Serious points to your grade, not doing it is just asking to fail. Luckily Scott and I were finished, mostly thanks to me. But Danny wasn't even halfway finished, and he was struggling.

So I asked him. "Hey, Danny. I'm, uh, finished with my project. Do you want help with finishing yours?" I think I saw a good amount of weight lift off his shoulders when I asked this. He agreed to me helping him, and gave me what I needed to go over so I would be of use to him. We agreed on meeting after school to work on it, because I had the faster computer anyways.

I got in my car and on the way home, Erica called me. She sounded not only frantic, but pissed off and slightly irritated. "Stiles, what the hell did you do to Derek Hale?!" She half shouted into the phone, before quieting herself a bit.

I scoffed. "I don't know, all I did was leave a note on his car, and-"She cut me off then. "What did the note say?!"

"I don't remember." I said, holding the phone from an arms distance as Erica shouted into the phone, obviously not happy with my answer. Here's what I caught though;

"Stiles what the-do you actually think you can pull that 'I don't remember' bull- on me?! I don't think so! First, Lindsay calls in sick to the coffee shop, and I am not leaving that-oaf of a man to tend the shop alone. Do you KNOW how bad Boyd is behind the counter? You should know, because we never-take shifts with him in the first place! And then Derek; oh, let me tell you about Mr. Dark and mysterious, Derek Hale-"

I yell into the phone to stop her. "Now that you've enjoyed your little tantrum and probably destroyed my phones speaker, tell me what happened when Derek Hale came into the store."  
She took a breath to steady herself, and then went on. "He asked where you were today. I said you weren't working, and he's probably in school still. He said something under his breath, and walked out, leaving me very curious. And then I called you, already agitated from Boyd's idiocy, to have to deal with your little lover. What is happening between you two anyways?"  
I shrugged to myself, exhaling. "I don't know, but I think I kind of hit on him a bit. That's all I remember though, not any details about what I wrote." Erica seemed relieved, but like I did a bad thing.  
"Stiles, you do know that he's _straight _right?" I rolled my eyes.  
"Yeah, for all you know. You don't know if he swings the other way, or even if he has an interest in his own sex." I had pulled up in front of my house, and had parked, trying to get Erica off the phone so that I can go from "school hours" to "after school hours."  
We talked for a little bit more, her complaining more than talking, and we said goodbye. I hung up the phone and went inside. Dad was once again reading the paper, making me question if they really _were_ interesting enough to read daily. I waved, telling him Danny was coming over so I could help him work on his project. He told me he would send him up before he went off to work, and I agreed to that. Now the only thing left to do was go over the notes he had taken and be ready to assist.

Halfway through Danny's notes on various chemical reactions, when the voice called out to him. "Stiles."

"Jesus Christ!" I shout, dropping my phone and notebook on the floor, and probably jumping about a mile off the ground. Derek Hale was in my room, glowering at me.

Oh my god, Derek Hale was in my bedroom.

Derek Hale in my bedroom.

Derek Hale, oh my god!

I shake myself out of my funk, steadying myself on the wall behind me. "What the hell-" Just then I was cut off by my dad's footsteps coming up the stairs. Derek flicks his hand to the door, pairing it with the universal "get rid of him!" look on his face; wide eyes, tense mouth, and positively ticked off; or, in Derek's case, fuming to the point of explosion.

I throw my door open, trying to look as innocent as you can when there is a total stranger in your room, uninvited and looking ready to kill. _Wait, how exactly did he get in my room? _ I thought to myself. Before I could think that one through, dad appeared on the flight of stairs looking concerned.

I smiled at him, leaning back against the door. "Uh, hey, Dad. What's up?" I scratched the back of my head, the innocence factor trying to stay afloat. I could swear I heard faint growling from behind the door, but I wasn't too sure; heck, it might just be my stomach flipping at the fact Derek is in my room.

Dad's eyebrows furrowed, before moving on to what he wanted to ask. "Are you alright, son? I heard you scream, and a thump. Wasn't sure if you saw a ghost, or what."

I laughed nervously, relaxing a bit. "Well, I uh... Saw a spider, so I jumped. Then the thumping was my phone, but by some miracle, it landed right on top of the spider, killing it. Oh, and I might need a new phone case too." I threw another perfect smile at my dad, making him most likely give up further questioning, and get to the other thing he had to say.

"Danny just called, said he was heading over here. Said ten minutes was when he would be here. Just, thought I'd let you know..." he trailed off, heading back downstairs. He was wearing his Sheriffs jacket and had his belt on, signaling that he was heading off to work in a minute. It was just nice to be out of that awkward moment.

When I opened and closed the door, Derek grabbed me by the arm and slammed me against the door, eyes furious and jaw locked in frustration; he looked seriously peeved about something... Could it be?

Oh no; he doesn't swing that way. Shit.

"Look, Derek, if you're angry about that note, I'm sorry and I didn't know, and-"

He cut me off, scoffing at my remark. "You think I'm angry about the note? I thought it was bolder than your character suggested. What I'm curious about is, why me?" He pulled a few inches away from my face, which was a nice change from the creepily kissable distance between us.

The response he gave me was a bit of a surprise; why him? Why him what? "I don't get what you mean... 'Why you' what?" The look Derek gave him made him wish the room wasn't getting so hot. That or he wished that he hadn't worn three layers today. It felt like he was melting him just from the eyes.

Derek's jaw twitched, his eyes looked Stiles up and down a few times, before answering. "I'm asking you why you choose the one person who's probably the worst thing for you. Need I jog your memory?" He replied, letting go of Stiles and flicking the note at him, folding his arms over his chest. My god, that jacket looked like it was holding on for dear life. _Okay, focus Stiles!_

"Your car is smokin'. Good thing you're a good match with the car." I knew exactly what it was implying; he was a smokin' piece of man, and I think he deserved to know about that. I smiled at my boldness, earning yet another growl from Derek. I rolled my eyes, folding the note back the way it was.

"Look, just because you can growl and throw a couple of angry looks my way, doesn't mean I'm scared." Derek's eyes glinted with something menacing, making me wish I kept my mouth shut. He got in my face faster than I thought humanly possible, staring me down and pinning me once again to my door.

I saw him smile, his teeth flashing out of the corner of his upturned upper lip. "How about now?" I nodded in agreement; pretty much worried that he would tear my throat out at any given time. But, something about the way his grin turned into a small smirk, made me feel he was not there to harm; only observe, watch even, like before.

Derek hadn't backed off, instead moving a bit closer to me. "W-wait... what are you trying to do?"

He looks at my mouth, before making eye contact again. "I'm going to kiss you." My face reddened, I could tell by the even warmer room around us, and the fact that I felt as red as a freshly submerged lobster, lips slightly parted, body already prepared for this. _But I digress;_ my mind spoke silently to my heart. _I have to take the reins on this one._

"W-what was that?" I inquire, making Derek shake his head a bit.

"I said; I'm. Going. To kiss. You." He emphasized the last word, poking me in the shoulder. "And, you're going to stay silent while I do it." My brain steps into that situation, putting a big fat **no **in between us.

"Uh, that's not going to happen." I say, pushing Derek away. Or, at least trying to, because, damn, this guy was like a brick wall of... of something, I got lost when I felt the grooves of his stomach. I pulled myself away from that thought, catching Derek go from 'slightly smirking' to 'frowning and furrowed eyebrows.'

"And why the hell not?" an eyebrow cocked in a response, him waiting for a reply.

"Because, you are intruding in _my_ house, and are acting like somewhat of a kidnapping type; barge in, tell people what's going to happen, and expect them to keep quiet."

Derek's eyes glinted again, looking at me. "I can think of a couple of ways to keep you quiet." he swallowed hard, putting his arm to my neck and pushing me against the door for the umpteenth time.

"Yeah, maybe you can," I respond, flushing with heat, "but by the time you have covered my mouth, I can either scream or call for my dad, who probably hasn't left yet, and has a loaded gun ready to take down any threat, to his remaining family. You can choose your path of destiny, my friend." Derek's face went from relaxed to annoyed, realizing that he wasn't going to get what he wanted regardless of the situation. He put his arm down from my neck, straightening my layers and looking at me from a decent distance.

He scoffed, turning around to the window. "Don't think this doesn't mean I'm going to leave you for the night," he answered my facial expression, stripping off his leather jacket and throwing it on my bed, "I'm staying here." My face partially lit up, but grew concerned when I saw the red on his shirt.

I stepped a bit closer to him. "Is that blood?" I ask, him looking at the hem of his shirt.

"It's nothing," He replies, sitting down in the chair positioned by the wall. Judging by his body language, I could tell he didn't want to be pressed. I was okay with this, not wanting to pester him on something he wasn't comfortable with speaking about.

"Okay. But, you can't stay; I've got uh..." Derek looked at me with mild disapproval, but I regained my thought. "I've got a friend from school coming over, and I don't know about how he'll react. So, you might want to leave."

Derek rolled his eyes. "He won't flip out. Just play cool." He picked up the nearest book off my shelf and flipped it open.

I rubbed my hand over my face, thinking over my options on how this could go; Danny could be okay with this and ignore Derek completely, just wanting to get this project done in time.

Danny could be worried about this total stranger, and not keep his eyes off of him, thinking he's going to lunge on him at any time.

Or, Danny could be totally freaked out, and tell my dad about a mysterious man in my room, and arresting Derek when he pressures me into telling him everything. Yeah, these decisions were not helping me feel any better about this.

"Derek, I don't know. What if Danny freaks out and decides to tell my dad? I mean, I really don't want to see you locked up and..." god, what was he saying? He didn't want anything bad to happen to Derek that was sure. He gave a weak smile to Derek, who looked concerned.

"Do you want me to go?" Derek asked, going to get up. I shook my head, wanting the farthest thing from that right now. Derek exhaled, rubbing his eyes, before going to look at me again.

"Stiles, if Danny is anything like I think he is, he won't give a damn. He'll probably acknowledge that I'm here, and move on. It's exactly how he'll act if he's like the Danny in my sculpting class." I looked at him, interested at this bit of info.

"You have a Danny in your class?" I was always interested in Derek's life, whenever he felt like bringing it up.

Stiles felt a lot better about this now that Derek was reassuring. He nodded his head and sat on his bed. One thing still irked him though. "Still, I'm worried about the blood on your shirt. He might freak out with that."

Derek looked slightly annoyed, looking up from the page he was immersed in. "He won't. Trust me. And you should probably study those notes." He gestured to the notebook on the ground, flipping back to his book. I only had a minute or two to skim through it before there was a knock on my door. "Come in," I call, Danny walking in. His eyes flitted over to Derek, confused on who this was. "Who is that?" he asked. _My god, Derek was wrong_, I thought to myself.

"That's just my, uh… cousin. Miguel." Derek looked up from his book, with a "What the actual fuck?" expression pasted on his face. I shrugged, apologetically, and focused on something else.

"I couldn't go over these notes in full before you got here, I… I had to kill a spider." I replied, weakly, sitting back up. Danny was obviously aware of my uneasiness, so he shrugged. "Its fine, man. I can go over them with you before we delve into this." I nod, that plan sounding about the best.

Danny's project sounded far more complex than I had imagined. My thoughts of an A+ slowly dwindled into B-, C+ area of grading. I mean, I have an A+ in the class as it is, so this project wouldn't kill me.

Danny was barely paying attention to Derek, while we were working, but he did occasionally glance over to him. He looked closer once, staring at Derek's shirt. "Is that blood?" He inquired, sounding partially scared.

_My god, Derek was wrong._

"Uh, no, that's just… Ketchup. He has a really bad allergic reaction to Tomatoes; I'm not sure why he was even eating them in the first place." I added on, "Hey, Miguel; I told you that you could wear one of my shirts, didn't I?" he just looked at me, my eyes shooting over to the dresser. Setting the book aside, he got up, stripping his shirt off as he walked over to the Dresser.

Uh, wow… Back, shoulders, skin, tattoo… I gabbed silently to myself, mouth hanging open partially. Danny was saying something next to me, but I was pretty much out of it. I felt a slap, looking back over to Danny, who had obviously just struck me.

"Dude; think of your grandma naked." I looked at him funny, before he added on, "You are totally staring, and almost drooling. And you are distracting us from the project at hand. Which, I don't think you remember, but it's due _tomorrow?" _I nodded, trying it and for some reason it worked. Wow, it worked a little too well, if you ask me.

"Is that how you save yourself from the staring and the drooling?" I asked, wondering how he kept so collected.

"Well, he's not my type anyways, but it helps when I do need it." He shrugged at this helpful hint, flinching when Derek, or better yet, _Miguel_, spoke up.

"I heard that, you know." He responded, looking at two different shirts with irritation.

"Yeah, I know, that was pretty audible dude." He leaned in closer to whisper to me, "I think he should tone it down on the muscle, anyways."

"Heard that too," Derek said once more, stretching my favorite shirt. Danny jumped, looking to me, then back to him, then back to me.

I shrugged. "My cousin has good hearing, which is something I wasn't blessed with sadly…" I shot Derek a look, which he returned with holding up a shirt, looking at me.

"Stiles; these shirts? No fit." He stretched the shirt in his hands, me praying to myself that he didn't stretch out the shirt permanently. He picked up the other shirt in his hands, irritation still in his eyes.

"None of these fit. At all. It's like you haven't moved out of your clothes you got in Kindergarten." Just then he reads the tag in the shirt, which said "Stiles Stilinski; age four."

"No way…" was all he said, staring at me in disbelief; I can't put on much weight, so most of my clothes from Kindergarten still fit me pretty well. If I was Derek though, those clothes wouldn't probably fit an arm.

"Look, what can I tell ya; if they still fit, then why bother throwing them away?" He stared at me, making me exhale. "I can get one of my dad's shirts, but I don't know how much bigger they would be."

"Do it," Derek replied, folding both shirts back up and putting them away. I stood up, excusing myself, before going through my dad's closet. I found a dark green t-shirt, for when he was off duty. I brought to Derek, who snatched it from my hands and threw it on. I was disappointed that I wouldn't get to stare at that bare physique for much longer, but as long as Derek was happy. And plus, he no longer distracted me with his abs. Abs that were almost cut out of marble, ones that rippled with power when he exhaled…

I threw myself down on my chair before I could get more distracted, and Derek stayed relatively quiet, to allow us to focus on the project at hand. We did pretty well, Danny telling me what to type and what to say. By the time it was seven o'clock, the project was typed, and all he had to do was finish up last minute touches on the non-written part of this, and organize everything so it was ready to present tomorrow.

"Thanks man, you don't know how badly you saved my life right now. I might actually pass this class now." I clapped him on the back, happy that he was going to pass this. I mean, hey, if Danny gets an A on this, and I get a B or C on mine, we might be even on our grades. This thought made me chuckle to myself.

When I closed the door, Derek was standing, dressed in his old shirt and leather jacket. My mood dropped a bit, when I realized he had to go.

"Are you leaving?" I ask, inquiring for the painfully obvious.

"Yeah; I have night classes tonight. Thanks for not kicking me out." I shrug.

"C'mon, it's the least I can do for you; better than standing outside perched in the freezing cold."

He gives out a small laugh, then steps close to me again, for the millionth time that night. I look down, not wanting to stare into his eyes again. He puts a hand under my chin, lifting it so I have to look at him. He looks at me with this warmth, yet darkness in his eyes. His tiny smirk returns, only for a brief moment.

"I still want to kiss you." He lets my chin down and escapes out the window, leaving me there speechless to think about what was just said.

Derek Hale wants to kiss _me? _Oh jeez, this is better than I expected it to go. My eyes dart to the shirt Derek had worn, me picking it up. I sniffed it; wow, it smelled just like him. I thank myself that I picked a thick shirt for him to wear. Before I drop it, I get a thought; I chortle, stripping off my own layers before putting it on. I smelled it again, reveling in the scent he left behind.

Just then the door swung open, making me scream and hit the floor. Standing up, my dad was in the doorway. He looked at me, concerned, before looking at what I was wearing.

"Is that my shirt?" He wondered, me looking down.

I shrugged. "Yeah, I just uh… wanted to wear it?" I offered up my hands, staring back. Dad didn't want to know, so he shook his head, and moved on.

"Hey, do you want anything from take-out? Tonight was a doozy, and I don't feel like eating even remotely healthy."

"Yeah, uh, just get me whatever I normally get when you order." We've eaten at enough places so that he knows what I like. He nodded, and shut the door. Just then a sound flicked against the window. I saw a note was left in the windowsill, flapping slightly in the wind.

Picking it up, it read "that shirt looks too good on you. I'm going to have to watch you a little more often." I held the note, staring out the open window, wishing he was still here right now.

"Derek," I say with a little bit of whine, "What are you doing to me, man?" I shut the window, sitting back on my bed to let all of this stew inside my already overactive brain.


	6. Chapter 6

Derek had this... weird effect on me. I don't know what it was. Not when I was looking at the internet, or when dad called me for the take-out, or even during that cheesy family movie we just clicked on because it was there. Hell, I didn't even forget about it until the next morning. Derek was on my mind, and I was okay with that. Or at least I think... I wasn't too sure myself.

Scott sure was enthusiastic about one thing though; Allison. He had just had his first one on one date with her, without Lydia or Jackson tagging along, so he definitely had a reason to be excited. The way his eyes twinkled, and he sighed and smiled, face warm with emotions and joy... Seriously, it made me question who was going to wear the pants between the two.

"Dude, that's great. Wait, what did you do exactly?" He had gotten distracted by all the other good things, that he never really did touch topic on what they did.

"Right, sorry man. I just, wow, she absolutely blows my mind!" He cleared his throat, continuing on. "All we were doing was watching a movie in her room, nothing too crazy. But she laced her fingers with mine, and-" I cut him off, before he could reiterate what he had already described in the first ten minutes of our conversation of second period. He was obviously in love with this girl, and I wasn't surprised, because he was having the hormones like a good ninety-five percent of us are feeling around here.

He turned to me, finally knotting the flow of conversation from his end, to ask me about what I did. "So, what happened with your night? Anything interesting happen with you and Danny?" He winked at me, earning a roll of the eyes from me.

"Well I definitely helped him get an A. And, well, Derek Hale was in my room." Scott freaks out at this, eyes bugging out at me. I shrugged at him, not even sure why he was freaking out. Oh wait, now I remember; Derek Hale.

"Dude, are you serious?! Derek Hale is creepy! And really strange, if you ask me."

"He's not that weird... I just don't think people understand him as much as he'd like them to. He seemed pretty alright." Scott still wasn't buying it, eyes still partially bugging out.

"Well, will you please not tell my dad about him being in there? I don't want Derek arrested and thrown in a dirty old cell because of me." I asked, throwing an award winning smile to him, until he finally caved and agreed.

"Hey, uh, Scott... what are the emotions you kind of feel with Allison?" I asked, curious.

"Well, it's kind of hard to explain... I feel, like warm,"

What?

"And, safe,"  
That's...

"And like I can be myself around her. Like I don't have to be someone else."

Is he...? Am I...? Oh my god.

My head started feeling weird, and I started to get really warm like last night. Was this happening? No, of course not... why would it? It's impossible.

"Hey, man, you okay?" Scott looked concerned for me; my head was in my hands, the room was heating up to about a million degrees it felt, and even the light from the classroom was giving me a headache.

"I gotta... gotta get out of here." I said, barely a whisper. Just then the bell rang, literally saving me from this madness. I gathered my things and ran out of the class, trying to get to my car. Scott had caught up with and was walking beside me. "Dude, please tell me, what's going on?"

I shook my head, nervously laughing as I walked. "I don't, you don't... You probably won't understand." He was rushing to keep up, me almost sprinting out of the school.

"Stiles. Stiles! Stop!" he grabbed my shoulder, threw me against the wall, trying something to calm me down. Sadly, smashing me into a wall and hurting my shoulder a lot didn't really calm me down as much as he'd hoped for.

"Breathe. Tell me what's wrong. Don't have a panic attack on me or something..." he looked seriously worried, eyes boring into me.

I inhaled and exhaled a few times, rubbing my shoulder before saying the one line giving me issue. "I think I'm sort of in like with Derek Hale." That was Scotts turn to stare, in which he took a step back to look at me. Wasting no time, I run past him, out to the parking lot, to my car. I dropped my keys, three times, before I could finally pick them up and open my door.

As I sat and went to close my door, by some freakish coincidence, Derek was standing by my door. I scream, hitting my head on the top of my jeep, making my headache worse.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Derek! Stop scaring me!" I rubbed my head, exhaling.

"Stiles, you look stressed. What's wrong?" I laugh, nervously; _if only you knew!_

"I'm uh, just stressed... stressed about a lot of things, really. Things I can't really describe now. And I'm probably going to puke all over the place, and have a panic attack, and turn gray prematurely and... And..." I started breathing heavily, in some futile last minute attempt to calm myself. When I finally did, he was still looking at me, worry slightly in his eyes.

I continued. "I just need some time alone. Just, alone." I shut my door and rev my engine, shooting out of the parking lot, and leaving a very worried Derek Hale behind me. I drove quicker than I needed to, until I got home. Thankfully, dad's cruiser wasn't parked in the driveway, giving me the ability to run inside and hide, burying my face in my pillows. I just needed some time to let this sink in. To let it all stew, and try to make sense.

I was getting shaken by something, making me stir from my darkness of pillows. My dad was sitting on the bed, shaking me and looking worried like any parent would.

"Son, this doesn't really look like school if you ask me. Is everything alright?" his eyebrows formed a quizzical look, making me sit up.

"Nah, I'm well aware of that... I just have a lot of shit on my mind. And I needed to get away from school. Don't worry, though, I'll be alright." I nodded, patting my dad on the shoulder, reassuring him further.

"Is it... something, or someone at school? Do you wanna talk about it?"

I groan. "Daaaaaaaad," I stretch out the word. "You never ask a teenager about school; thank god I'm not a female, or you wouldn't hear the end of it!" I nudge him in the side, winking at him. He looks more than relieved that I didn't turn out female. Probably for the best, since most female teenagers I know can cause semi-damage to their fathers, and god, what it would have been like for bath time with him, and...

Dad clears his throat, snapping me out of my train of thought. "Well, I'm just here for my break; saw your jeep parked, and I got worried. Probably for the best, I suppose." He opens his mouth to say something else, but instead scratches his head and leaves, closing the door partially behind him. Rubbing my eyes, I jump over to my computer and boot it up. I mean, for god's sakes, I'm about a week ahead of everyone else in all my classes, so I can afford to be a little hasty with my schoolwork. I half-heartedly laugh, staring at my computer screen. Oh gosh, that cat looks silly with those antlers on.

The day went pretty smoothly for me after that; heck, a little slow and boring for my taste, but, c'est la vie, we all can't have lives with non-stop action. Wait... action. Action! I should watch a movie. And since I hadn't seen something in that genre for quite some time... what the hell.

Just as I was watching the poor guy's head get blown up, I heard a knock on the window. Looking over, there was coffee, a note folded and neatly tucked into the window frame. I checked the clock; five twenty-six. Only one person could have left that, judging by the time. I hit the pause button and opened the window, taking the note first, and then the coffee.

"Sorry you are feeling crappy. Feel better soon." His loopy, neat writing made me run my fingers over it. How does he write so... so... eloquently? Wait, that's not the right word. _Stiles, don't hurt yourself, _I chide silently to myself. The coffee is perfect temperature; I end up warming my hands with it instead of putting it down, only to put the movie back on. I hear rustling, and next thing I know, Derek is standing at the window.

"Hey," I call out, not averting my eyes from the screen, but turning my body towards him. He doesn't say a word, he just stands there.

I add on to my greeting, "Are you going to say something, or are you going to play brooding stalker all night?" He scoffs, clears his throat, before going to sit on my bed. Not really words, but it's at least better than silence.

"How are you feeling?" he gruffly asks, staring at the weirdly shaped stains on my walls. Those stains are testament to the fact that you should **never** let a twelve year old kid with ADD have energy drinks before bed. Never again, I tell you.

"A lot better; sleep tends to help my mind clear. Today's been weird for me in general." I shrug, looking back at my movie; it's been paused, the totally anti-climactic final fight scene midway through. I seriously don't know why I chose to watch this movie in the first place; it's obviously just a dive."

"Well good..." his eyebrows furrowed, looking at the screen of my laptop. "Why are you watching that god awful movie? Haven't you seen the reviews for it?" I shake my head, going to explain that I just picked it because it was there. "I should pick a movie for you. Make sure your precious brain cells aren't destroyed."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you... asking me out on a movie date; Derek?" I wriggled my eyebrows at him, smirking when he realized what he was almost implying.

"No." he said flatly. I pouted at him, disappointed that he dropped it so quick. "Alright... but we play rock, paper, scissors for it." That got me excited. But Derek, not so much.

He scoffs at me, raising a quizzical eyebrow to me. "I haven't done that since about the sixth grade. And I said that I wanted to pick the movie."  
I shrugged. "Right, but, I deserve at least a little bit of a chance to pick." His eyebrow was still raised, making me change tactics. "Okay, how about this; If you win, you get to pick the movie. And I won't even complain, whine, disagree or even give you grief. All up to you."

"Right, but there has to be a catch... what happens if you win?"  
I nod. "If I win, then you pick three different movies, and I pick one from those three." he seems to like this idea; well, at least he doesn't dismiss it right away when I offer it.

"Alright, you got a deal. Two out of three, right?" I nod, putting my hand up.

Derek seems to have other senses besides super hearing, because as I would put my hand down, the absolute split second after, he would put the winning sign down. I whine a bit, half of an eye roll when I see Derek smirk as he wins. "Alright, you big cheater, go ahead and pick. But nothing raunchy, my dad and I share an account and he can see all the movies we watch.

He looks intent on the screen as he picks them out. Finally, he wheels back from the computer, nodding me over to pick. He picks two different documentaries, and a foreign love film. I raise my eyebrows at him, giving him an _are you serious_ look.

"Now why the hell would I want to watch a documentary about cow slaughter? I like burgers you know!"

"They interest me. Now pick." He folds his arms, leather stretching over the amount of muscle. _Damn, what I would give to feel that._

Giving it a whirl, I pick the other documentary about how our generation is turning into cyborgs, and hit play. He seems like he's seen this one before, and I roll my eyes. "Sorry, but I don't have any popcorn or snacks. You'll have to make do without." I pull the other chair up next to the computer and sit back, trying with all my might to stay focused on it.

That plan lasts for about maybe twenty minutes, before I completely lose focus on the film, and instead go to focus on Derek's face, all sculpted and great. He was growing a healthy amount of stubble all along his jaw and cheeks. Every now and then his jaw would tense or twitch, or he'd rub his eye, but he'd always stay focused on the movie playing.

I was lost in thought, mapping out the angles in his face, not even noticing when he turns to stare at me. I don't realize I have this hot sensation on my face until I look at him.

"You said you wouldn't give me grief." He said disapprovingly.

"I never said I wouldn't stop watching it." I hold up a finger, as to prove my point. "I just can't wrap my head around why these kids put themselves in this testing area. I mean really, I sure wouldn't want to become part robot. Would you?" He just stared, making me throw my hands up. He clicked the pause button, turning to look at me.

"Fine. What do you want to do that won't make me lose brain cells and you lose focus."

"Uh..." _Well, for starters, I'd like to throw you down and make you have your way with me on my bed. And then in multiple places of the house._ But, we can't say that, now can we?

"Maybe just... I don't know. Talk maybe? I have no clue." He just kept looking at me, expecting me to have some revelation. He looked away only to pull out a smallish sketchbook.

"What's... what's that?" I obnoxiously ask.

"What do you think it is? I'm going to draw your face, if you're alright with that." I open and close my mouth a few times, before closing it and nodding.

"But, wait... what if I, like, mess up or something?" He shakes his head.

"Look, it's not that difficult to do; just hold a pose for thirty or so minutes, and don't move. I'll even tell you how to do so. Okay?" I nod my head, looking at him.

"Great. Now, for starters, turn your head in a three-quarter angle." I look at him. "Turn your head to the side, and then come back half-way." I do so, him nodding and studying my face.

"Tilt your head a little bit up." Did it. "A little bit to your right." Did that too. "Relax your face." Relaxing. "Okay, now..." he checks the clock. "Hold that pose for thirty minutes. I'll tell you when you can move it. If you have an itch, think about a different feature on your face." I resisted the urge to furrow my eyebrows, trying my best to keep my pose.

I actually kept pretty still, which wasn't normal for me. Maybe it was the fact that I wanted to make sure he had good reference, or something. Or maybe it was the fact he took his jacket off about ten minutes in, and I was too distracted by that to move; the way the dark grey material stretched too thin across his body, how it clung to all the right things, in all the right places. I mean, Jesus, I could literally _feel_ the lines on his stomach from here. And then the way his sleeves bunched above his biceps, how they flexed when he was holding the sketchbook, how the right one would twitch whenever he put it to paper.

A small groan escaped from me, making me instantly want to kill myself. I could feel myself turn red like a freshly submerged lobster. _Play it cool, Stiles! Maybe he won't notice..._ yeah right, with his super hearing, he probably heard it loud and clear. He didn't seem to either notice or care, because he kept sketching like it was nothing.

"Okay, that's time," he said, running his finger over the paper, doing what seemed like shading over it.

"I thought you called time?" I asked, trying to get a look at what he did.

"Yeah, I'm done with the majority of it." He continued, "Now I'm just finishing it. Don't worry, I'll let you look." He answered the look I was giving him, turning his eyes back to the page while I fidgeted with the tie of my hoodie. When he finished, I was a little more than excited; maybe he could make my, semi-attractive face look better in pencil.

"Okay, ready to see?" I nod, sitting up a little straighter in my seat. He shocked me when he showed me; the likeness to me is surprising. I mean, he not only got the moles and marks on my face, but he got the scar under my left ear from when I was five. I mean, for crying out loud, that thing is so faded and healed, you really have to look to see it. And no way could he have picked up on all those little blemishes, just under the surface of my skin. There is just no way when you are that far away from my face.

"Stiles? You look like you've seen a ghost or something. Say something." I didn't know I was staring, or... even drooling a little. I notice my mouth is wet, wiping it with my sleeve.

"Sorry, that just... this blew my mind, Derek; you are really good!" I nudge him with my foot, smiling at him. He grins a little, looking down.

"Thanks, Stiles. You have a great profile, and it was bugging me that I wasn't able to draw you yet. So, thank you." He proceeds to tear out the drawing from his sketchbook, handing it to me. "Here, take it. An early birthday present from me."

Wait, what? "How do you know that?" I ask, cocking an eyebrow.

"I'm not creepy, trust me. But with my overly sensitive hearing, I could hear Scott rant over how excited he was for your birthday on Friday." He sets down the drawing, obviously tired of holding out his arm. I mean, he could probably hold it out for days on end if he wanted to.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." I laugh, nervously, sitting back. I was going to be creeped out by that bit of info, but he made it seem alright. I mean, it was only October, but I was turning 18 on Friday. Finally an adult, I guess.

I looked back at the clock; a little after six. I was happy that he didn't have to leave yet, but that just left an awkward silence between us. He didn't seem to notice, because he was rifling through my music collection, a frown on his face. He picked up a copy of my Rolling Stones cd, grimacing as he looked at the front and back.

"Oh no," I say, grabbing the cd out of his hands. "You aren't disowning one of my top five favorite artists ever. Not gonna happen, mister."

"Not saying anything, it's just-"  
"My music makes it look like I just ran over your puppy dog. I get it." I put my hands up, setting the cd down on the table. Smiling and shaking his head, he kept rifling through my music. He seemed a lot nicer when he saw Depeche Mode, The Offspring, The Killers and Muse.

"Muse. Now that's the sign of a true genius. Saw them back in '09, and it totally blew my mind."

"Yeah, the Black Holes and Revelations CD is fantastic; I mean, that acoustic version of Uprising is about the most bitchin' thing I've ever heard. You just can't deny that they aren't amazing." I add, "Just a shame that they used Muse in Twilight. God, that was a disgrace to not only Vampires but Werewolves too."

Derek raised his hand, in a _Praise Mary_ fashion. "I cannot agree with you more. The movies totally sucked, and don't even get me started on the books. I was beating my head against a wall after the second one."  
I laugh at that. "You are one of those people who don't stop reading a series half-way through?" He shook his head, making me sigh. "Oh, I am _so_ sorry! If a story totally sucks to me in the first one, I just stop reading it. That's why I don't ever finish anything, so says my dad." I shrug, stacking the cds in an orderly fashion.

For the rest of the hour, Derek and I talk about favorite movies, books, music and whatever else we can fit. Before long, it's seven and he's leaving too soon. I'm sad he couldn't stay longer, but it's nice that he can stay for however long. He turns to me before leaving, looking like he wanted something else. _Yes?_ my inner self asks. He puts his hand up, before putting it down, nodding. "See you tomorrow then?"

"Yeah, I'd like that." I said, smiling. He grins and ducks out the window, leaving me feeling better than I had in Second period. Okay, I admit, maybe I was developing some feelings for him. But, there is nothing wrong with having feelings, right? Well, except if it's Derek Hale. Take one look at him, then at me. Heh heh...

Ladies, take a look at your man. Now to me. Now back to him. Now back to me. Who's more attractive in this situation? Because I use deodorant for butch women and old men. Blah blah blah...


	7. Chapter 7

Scott is talking about a thousand miles a minute, in a combination of yesterday's horrible news of me telling him "oh, Derek Hale was in my room last night" and "Oh, Allison is just the most amazing girl in the world, and I seriously want to marry her." The speech was getting redundant, and was heavily based around Allison and less on Derek. It's like he wants to yell at me about it, just he wishes that it was somebody, anybody, besides Derek, so he won't have to say his name.

"Dude, I get it; Allison's amazing. She's the brightest star in your night sky, and the butter to your bread. Now can you please focus for two seconds on what you have to yell at me for?" I pause, adding on, "You can call him something else if you don't want to say his name.

He scoffs. "Yeah, like what? Mr. Brood?" I shrug, thinking that's not too bad a suggestion. He gets back to the topic. "I just think it's kind of creepy that he's in your room. I mean, what if he kills you in your sleep or something?"

"Yeah right," I reply. "Derek's been in my room three times now, and all he's done is sit there, either reading, or sketching, or talking to me, or-"  
Scott waves a hand, cutting me off. "Wait, you said _sketching_ right?" I nod, pulling out the profile he did of me. His eyes go all wide, going to hold it. "Dude, he **DREW** that?! That's insane!"  
I nod, tucking it back in its spot. "Yeah, it's pretty great. I think he could seriously do great things to the world of art when he finishes school or whatever." I picked at my now soggy salad, doing anything to keep my hands distracted.

"Wow. Hey, do you uh..." he scratched his head, looking odd about something. I looked at him until he continued. "Do you think he would, uh, draw Allison and me for a birthday gift? I want to get her something for her birthday, and that _might_ just be perfect."

I shrug. "I don't know... wait, why are you asking me this?" Cue puppy dog eyes. "Oh, you're making me ask him now, is that it? I'm not his boyfriend, you know; why don't you ask him yourself. You aren't afraid of the big, bad, broody art student, are you?"  
He shakes his head. "No, it's just... what if he says no? Or, better yet, decides halfway through to take his pencil and stab me in the throat with it? This guy's unpredictable!"

"Nah, you are just overreacting. Look, if I ask him for you, will you stay quiet?" he nods, putting a stop to that conversation. Soon we go back to the norm; Allison and Scott making goo goo eyes over one another from different tables, and me going to fiddle with something in my notebook.

He says something else, me only listening in about halfway. "...ing out on Saturday, right?"

"What?" I ask dumbly, snapping out of my fog.

"I said," he repeated, slightly irritated, "We're hanging out on Saturday, right?"

"Coffee shop on Saturday. Sorry." He slams his hand down, obviously frustrated. People turn around to look, but we shoo them away with a seconds of awkward staring.

"I'm sorry, but Erica's been kind of crazy lately. She wants me to work this weekend. But..." I offer, putting my hand up. "I did pick up optional hours on Saturday, Five to Nine. I could get out of them, and make Rebecca take them instead?"

"Do it." He says, looking excited. I nod, sending a text over to Rebecca quickly, and overjoyed when she said she'd be more than happy to take them for me. I hold my arms up, looking at him. "I'm a free man on Saturday. Totally yours." he high fives me, happy that I not only gave him someone to see, but he has something to look forward to now.

The rest of the week went by pretty slowly. When I got home, it was about thirty minutes before I heard the familiar knocking of Derek; I had just jumped out of the shower, getting particularly smelly from practice today. Mostly because, sadly, our main goalie got transferred out of state, and I was the second best one on the team. So now, being first string and all, I might be able to get some interest from other people in the school. Or, maybe I can settle for being noticed.

I open the window, going to sit down. "Such a gentleman, always knocking before coming in." He rolled his eyes, sitting down on the bed and stripping his jacket off.

"Yeah, well, I was raised to be polite and kind. It's in my nature." He pulls out the same sketchbook, focus going straight to that. Sadly, my focus was on this project that Scott was _way_ too caught up in with something else to pull his half. Derek cleared his throat, making me turn around.

"If you don't want to do more than your half, then why are you?" He was pointing his pencil at me, whilst I shook my head.

"It's not just his grade I'm worried about, you know; I'm trying to keep an all A standard, so I have an easier time with getting into college." Derek raised an eyebrow, seeming intrigued.

"College, huh? What are some you're interested in?" I shook my head, not sure if I even knew the answer to this one.

"I don't know... I definitely want a Masters in English. I want to stay some place close, so my dad doesn't have to live totally alone, but I want a different kind of atmosphere change. Like, I want to see the world, but I want to stay close to home, you know?" He nods, understanding completely.

"Have you thought of State college? That's where I'm going." He asked, scribbling something in his sketchbook. I raised my eyebrows.

"Really?" He nods. "Huh," I say, somewhat in disbelief. "Is the art program good there?" I question.

"Well, it's not so great in the fashion department, with making fabrics and the classes they offer, but everything else is pretty good. And then there is the draft in the West building, but I'm thankfully nice and warm in the East building, living alone." I scoff, making him look up.

"You live alone? What, like, in a loft or something?" He nods, making me look at him strange.

"Each college has a top level, which is the loft. Most of the time, it's four to five people at once, and reserved only to the most privileged students. But, with me having the means to live there, and _alone__,_ for that matter, I get sixteen hundred square feet of panoramic views and loft space all to myself."

"Wow..." is all I say. "Must be nice, living alone."  
He shrugs. "It gets lonely from time to time. And slightly chilly. But, I like not being disturbed. Quiet time is exactly what I need after my last class." I nod, taking in all that information. Just then I remember what I wanted to ask.

"Hey, uh, Derek..." he looks up. _Why did I get butterflies? _I shake my head. "Uh, my friend Scott, was wondering if you would be okay with doing a, uh... I don't know; a drawing? A portrait?" he scratched his head, looking for the right words.

"Is it of people and only people?" I nod. "Then it's a portrait. Keep going." I nod.

"He was wondering if you would be willing to do a portrait of him and his girlfriend for a birthday present." He takes his in, thinking it over.

"When is her birthday?" He asks, making me search through the many various tidbits of information.

"It's uh... Three and a half weeks' away, if I'm correct." I check my calendar. "Yep, the 8th of November." He nods.

"Does he want full body, waist up, neck up, or face?" I furrow my brows, looking at him like he's crazy.

"Tell you what; how about I give you my number so you can text me the information?"

"Uh..."

Did he just _slyly_ give me his number? Wait, is he hitting on me? Oh my gosh...Oh wow.

"Hey, Stiles; do you want my number or not?"  
"Yes!" I say, sounding far more excited than I intended. I put my face in my hands, embarrassment creeping slowly over my face.

"I mean, yes, I do." He lowers his eyebrows, pulling out his cell phone.

"Okay, my number is..." he recites it off, me entering it into my phone. I was tempted to put him under 'sexy brooding uncontrollably hot man' as his name, but, well, I couldn't fit all of that. So I just put 'Derek' instead. I nodded when I finished, and was more than pleased to have his number. This was pretty great, I felt.

"Stiles, I got a question for you now." _Yes, good looking?_  
"When are you working the coffee shop again?"_ oh._

"Uh, I'm working it Sunday; Friday is my birthday, and Saturday I got out of it to hang out with Scott. Definitely working the afternoon and evening shift, though. With Boyd, though, not so excited about that."

"Is that the darker skinned guy? Because, if it is, he better not hand me my coffee again."  
"Really?" I put my chin in my hands, looking at him. "What happened when he did that?"

"Totally stumbled, and threw the steaming hot coffee all over me. Most of it hitting me in the crotch." I couldn't help my fit of laughter when he said that, making me clutch my sides from how much I was laughing. The scowl on his face was more fuel to add to the laughter machine that I was.

"How about I throw coffee on you, see how you like it." He couldn't scowl for long; he was soon smiling a bit, more than enjoying my fit of laughter.

"Oh man, I'm going to have to get him for that one; he's not going to be living that one down for a long while!" I sit back in my chair, wiping the tears from my eyes. He regains composure quicker than I did, picking up his sketchbook again.

That was only Monday. When Tuesday rolled around, I asked Scott on what he wanted for the style. I texted Derek the information, and he said he'd meet with Allison and Scott to start it soon. He couldn't thank me enough for this. Wednesday was slow, as usual, the only good thing was when I got a perfect score on my Calculus test when I thought I would fail it miserable; near college level math is difficult!

Thursday went without anything exciting, making me bang my head against a wall until I finally could go to bed for my birthday the next day.

Friday hit, and I was ecstatic; Eighteen and finally, in some fashion, an adult. Dad woke me up with a cheesy 'happy birthday' and a jig of sorts. He thought he twisted something, so he said "never again" and hobbled back down the stairs. At school, everyone knew that it was my birthday, even before they announced it on the intercom. Scott basically attacked me with a hug, grinning and ranting over how well the drawing is going; apparently he thinks this will be the best present Allison will ever get, well, besides the custom jewelry she was getting from her aunt.

"Yeah, it's no problem, man. I'm just happy that you are." I smile, putting my hand on his shoulder. I honestly don't remember the rest of that day, except that Allison had made me a cake and that honestly surprised me. No candles, but with the incident with the fire two years ago, we were smart. Even without the candles, the cake was delicious, perfectly sugary and sweet, and I had three slices of it too, her sending the rest of it home with a warning that I was to return it the next day.

Gladly not spoiled for dinner, Dad took me out to my favorite place to eat, and getting me what I needed for my birthday. It was kind of a long standing tradition between us; instead of getting us just whatever we wanted for our birthdays, we got each other what we needed, and only one or two things that we wanted. I got the cd and jacket I had wanted for the past little while, and everything else was what I needed. Pretty great end to the start of my 'adulthood.'

I decided to call it a night, heading up early. When I entered my bedroom, the window was open, making me think back to this afternoon; I don't recall leaving it open, so I get a little bit worried. I close it, not before looking out of it though; I don't think Derek did it though, because he doesn't do this kind of thing. Well, he did it the one time, but that was before all of this. Whatever though, I close it anyways, locking it.

I yelp when I turn around, and Derek is standing right in front of me. When I finally get my heart under control, I punch him in the shoulder.

"God damn it, Derek; Stop scaring me!" in return for that, he holds up a candle, lights a match, and touches it to the candle. His eyes don't leave mine the entire time he's doing it, looking, no pun intended, kind of hot.(i) I resist the urge to laugh, when he opens his mouth.

"Happy birthday. Now blow out the candle." I do so, coughing when the smoke came my way.

"What happened to..." cough. "To, gentleman Derek? Coming in without knocking?"

I saw him roll his eyes, even in the dark. "You weren't home. I let myself in politely." He tosses the candle in the trash bin, with perfect accuracy.

"Look, thanks for the candle and everything, but I kind of already did that at dinner. And, also, thanks for helping Scott with this for Allison's birthday present; I can't explain how much this means to him." I may have been kind of rambling then, especially when Derek looked like he wanted to say something, but I kept going. "I mean, I wish I had someone like him who did those nice things for me, and uh, he's just a really great friend, we've been friends since Kindergarten, ever since he stole my salmon crayon, which was my favorite on in the box of 24, and the-"  
Derek cut me off by pressing his lips to mine, silencing me for the time being. His eyes were closed, slightly strained from the effort. My first reaction was shock, but then I came back to my senses, pushing back into his kiss with force, placing my hands on his chest. He broke free too soon for my liking, standing back a good two feet.

"It seemed like it was, you know, the only way to quiet you." I nod, touching my lips, hoping I could keep that sensation. He pulled something else out of his jacket; a cd case, with a handwritten playlist on the back of it.

"I put together a list of songs you might like. Just some things from your library, as well as mine." I took it, looking at the playlist.

"Thanks, Derek. That was really kind of you." Then I furrowed my brows, looking at the list; Thirty-one songs, but only thirty were labeled. Thirty-one was blank.

"Hey, Derek, riddle me this; why is number thirty-one on here blank?" I looked up to him. I could swear, his eyes were glowing, even in the dark.

"That's what I want to tell you; don't play the last song yet. I'll tell you when you can."  
"But what if I want to listen to it?" He takes the cd out of my hands.

"Then I guess you'll just have to go without hearing it." He held it out of reach.

"Oh, come on, you big grump; I was joking! Please give it back; I want to listen to it. Really!" I reached out for it, crossing my arms. "It's selfish to give a present and take it back, you know; on my birthday too." I added. He smiled a bit, handing it back.

"Just, please? Put the cd on a playlist, and exclude that one?" I nod, agreeing to that. He smiles.

"Hey;" He looks at me. "I've never seen your teeth before. Didn't know you had them though; I thought you were just all fangs or something." I laugh nervously, setting the cd down.

With the silence pressing into the awkward territory, Derek grabs his coat to leave.

"Wait!" I say, grabbing his arm. He looks down at my hand, then to my face. "Don't leave yet. Stay a little longer? Please?"  
He debates it, looking at me. "What about your dad?"  
"I told my dad I was going to bed, and I didn't want to be disturbed. Normally he knows that once I ask that, he won't check in on me. And _especially_ on my birthday. So, at least stay with me until I fall asleep?"

He takes his jacket back off, putting it on the back of the chair. "Is your bed comfy?" I can't help but grin as he sits down on the side of the bed opposite of where I normally sleep.

"Just to sleep. I don't want you over tired the next day." He said, shifting so I could be comfy. I took this chance to wrap my arm around Derek's stomach. I enjoyed feeling the grooves of his stomach, running a finger down each line, kind of soothing me to sleep.

I didn't know I had fallen asleep until I jerk awake, looking around; something was really warm, and... Solid. Derek! He's still here? I look up, seeing him lost in thought or something. Yep, he's definitely still here. He was rigid, staring out into the moonlight through the open blinds.

I poke him in the rib. "Hey," I say, sleepily, yawning when I did it. He looks down, rubbing his face.

"Hey. Sorry, did I wake you." I shake my head, settling my head back on his side.

"No, I just... woke up for some reason. Probably something about Muse being torn apart by Vampire guitarists or something."  
Derek wasn't paying attention; instead he was just staring out the window. I figure it's nothing; he's probably just trying to stay awake.

"You can head home if you want, Derek; I'm not forcing you to stay."

"It's fine. I like this." I feel my cheeks heat up at his compliment, thankful it was dark so he couldn't see that. "Go back to sleep. I'm fine." I nod, more than happy to take that offer. I run my fingers over his stomach again and going to sleep without much effort. The last thing I remember is how nice and warm Derek's body was, even through the cloth.


	8. Chapter 8

I was a grinning doofus when I woke up and Scott called me; Derek's number, and lips, had been mine for that day. I mean, hell, I was still running my fingers along them the next morning, remembering that feeling well.

"Stiles! Earth to Stiles!" I snapped out of my love drunk stupor, enough to answer him.

'Yeah, buddy?" I say stupidly. He groans over the phone, and I can feel the way he rolls his eyes.

"I was saying, what time are you coming over?" he was slightly irritated.

"Oh, I thought maybe one thirty-ish?" I offered that, knowing full well that it's another two hours before that happens. He whines into the phone, begging me to come earlier.

"I want to make sure my dad eats something good before I leave; he hasn't been eating too great the past few days. I'll be there on time though. My full attention to you; Scouts honor!" He groans, remembering the horrid experience that was Eagle Scouts."

"Yeah, sorry about that reference. Never again, I promised. Here I go again." I pause. "Well, see you then, man." I get up to make something healthy for my dad.

Dad was just staring at the salad, grimacing at the glass of water I had set in front of him.

"Dad, it's gonna get soggy if you don't eat it." I was trying my best not to smugly grin when he took a bite, trying to wash the taste down with, well, water.

"Son, is this payback for last week?" I shrug.

"Maybe... I just want you around long enough, okay?" He nods, looking a bit guilty. He takes another bite with more gusto, but still with the same amount of distaste.

I wriggle my eyebrows. "Hey, I like this whole 'guilt trip' thing. Maybe I should try it more often."  
"Don't push it, Stiles." I giggle, finishing the last off of my plate and draining my cup.

When I saw my Dad take the last bite of his greens, I took his plate and cup and put it in the dishwasher. "Okay, well, I'm heading over to Scotts house now."  
"Son." The tone caught me off guard.

"Yeah, dad?" I ask, popping my head back in the kitchen.

He points to a chair. "I think we need to talk for a minute." I scratch my head, pretty sure that I'll be late.

"Uh, can it wait?" The look tells me that it can't, so I sit down. "What's up?"  
He inhales before starting. "Son, you are eighteen, and I respect that. But, I need to get this off my chest before it gets too far gone... You know about, all of the uh... diseases from sex, right."

I think I literally fall out of my chair, a combination of nervous laughter and groaning. "Nope, I can't hear this right now. Nope. I can't." I had covered my ears and started humming. I could feel an attack start to come on.

"Stiles, please. Be mature about this. It's important."

'No, it's not Dad! It's not!" I started hyperventilating. Oh god, not right now. Rocking back and forth, I start trying to calm myself. I hadn't had an attack in a little over a year, why now?  
His dad was right in front of him in a second, worry plaguing his face. "Son? Oh god, son!" He hugged him close, hushing him, trying to calm him down.

I started to cry sometime then, for no apparent reason, except from the amount of stress I had just gotten. When we had finally calmed down, the both of us, it was nearly two thirty. I freak out, shooting up to get out the door.

"Son!" I jump, looking at him.

"I swear, if you start talking about how you can grow warts on your asshole, I'm going to flip my shit." He looked horrified at that bit of info, before regaining his composure.

"The only thing I'm going to say about this talk, is be considerate and careful. Alright?" I roll my eyes.

"My god, Dad; I'm not going over there to get some from Scott, he's totally betrothed to Allison. He wouldn't even ask anyways." Closing the door before any more crazy looks, he jumps in the jeep and drives over to Scott's house.

Scott tackles me, more than happy to see his best friend. I wave at his mom as we get into his room and sit.

"Dude, what's up? I was getting worried that you weren't going to show. Thought I would have to go and rescue you or something!" he was grinning a lot, me noticing his teeth; damn, his canines look really pronounced. Whatever though, it's probably nothing.

"Yeah, sorry. I had an almost attack before I came here. Dad tried to throw the sex talk on me now that I'm eighteen." Scott started howling with laughter at that. I kicked him, hard. "How about you have someone talk to you about diseases; he probably knows a lot because of his job too!" I rolled my eyes, sitting back.

"Sorry, man, but, damn, didn't he get to you before you turned eighteen? My mom told me about it when I was sixteen. Remember that day in gym where I was super pale?" I looked at him shocked.

"Oh god, you were bombarded for THAT reason? Now **THAT** is funny!" It was my turn to laugh. Just then I got a text from Derek.

"Oh no, is that Mr. Broody?" I rolled my eyes. He continued. "You promised me full, undivided attention!"

"I know. Just let me reply to whatever he says, I'll tell him I'm hanging out, and I'll talk later." He pouted, but agreed to that.

'Derek: I was wondering if you were free after work?'  
I questioned this. 'Stiles: Yeah, pretty much. Why do you ask?'

It was a minute before he responded. 'Derek: I was wondering if you wanted to come over to my loft and talk?'

My face grew red after reading this; Derek Hale was inviting ME into his place. Oh man, that was crazy! But i still wondered...

'Stiles: Uh, that would be great. Wait, you aren't using this to get inside my batman boxers, right?"

'Derek: ...uh, no. Just to talk. I could drive you to there and back to your car.'

'Stiles: Yeah, that sounds great. I get off at seven, so seven-fifteen sound okay to you?'

'Derek: Sounds great. See you then?'

'Stiles: Yeah, TTYL.'

I closed my phone and put it back in my pocket. Me and Scott talked for a little longer, before words were no longer enough to entertain us. We played his Xbox for a few hours, me beating him every time at Modern Warfare and Call of Duty. It was late, so I decided to call it a night. I had to get ready for tomorrow!

I picked up the entire afternoon shift, and half of the evening shift, so I had three hours with Boyd, and Five hours with Erica. Boyd wasn't a total klutz today, but he did become very forgetful as the day progressed. Finally, by about the fifth order screw up, I called Boyd a "bumbling idiot" and stormed into the employee break room. After cooling down for fifteen minutes, I returned and apologized to him.

"S'okay," he replied glumly, finishing washing a bowl. "I'm used to it in my house." Guilt went through my gut.

"I didn't know that you had uh... problems at home. I'm sorry, man." I feel really guilty, no, even guiltier, than before. He shrugs in response.

"Hey," Boyd looks up at me. "Do you want me to help you with some things? I could semi-train you a bit; you know, remembering orders, not stumbling over your feet, not dropping things, stuff like that." His face lights up a bit at this.

"Would you?" I nod. "Wow, thanks. That would be really great. Erica might stop harping on me a bit if we did this." We both agreed to do so after closing time on Friday, and I would make sure to pick up hours on Friday so I could help. But by then, the Evening rush started, and Erica was walking in. Boyd waved goodbye, and his gaze lingered on Erica's face for a bit too long. I knew what was going on as soon as I saw it.

Erica gave a weird look, before looking back to me. When Boyd walked out, she slammed both of her hands down. "Okay, why did Boyd look like he was giving me goo goo eyes as he walked out? If I didn't know any better, I would think he had a..." I nodded, making her eyes go wide. "Oh my god, really?"

I shrug. "He's a nice guy. He has problems at home, and you should really lay off him a bit. I think that this job was kind of a way of saying to his family 'I'm not a total disaster.'"

She scoffs, tying her hair back in a loose pony. "Yeah, but they should see him work. He may be nice, but if they saw him, they'd probably laugh. He needs to practice his hand-eye coordination as well as his regular coordination, memory and work skills."

"I'm doing that. On Friday. Which reminds me, can I take your hours on Friday?" She nods, writing it down in her planner. Before she can cross them out, she looks at Friday, screams, tosses her pen and planner in the air, and wraps me into a bone crushing hug.

"Oh my god, how am I SO stupid?! Happy Late Birthday! Please forgive me for being a dummy! Please would you?" I laugh, returning the hug.

"Don't mention it. I was going to a little bit later, but then the Boyd thing came up. And thanks." She lets me go and pulls out what looks like a cd case. I unwrap the cheesy new year's paper (sorry, didn't have time to wrap it properly! was Erica's response.) and saw it said "to Stiles" in regular lined paper writing.

"Gee, thanks. I always wanted something like this." She rolls her eyes.

"It's what is inside of the case that matters." I open it, and nearly drop it on the floor; Muse's newest album. One that isn't set to release until summer of next year.

I was flabbergasted. "Thi-this is-is... Wow." I inhale. She smiles, resting a hand on my shoulder.

"My ex-boyfriends sisters' brothers' cousins mothers daughter is related to the drummer for Muse. They got an early copy." She winked. "You deserve something extra special."

I smirk. "This is why if you were into me in any way, shape or form, I would totally marry you. You are my hero, and I seriously love you." I hugged her again. This was going right on my iPod as soon as I got home. She was willing to take me out tonight to celebrate, but I told her I couldn't. She asked why, and I said "Later."  
Soon enough, it's seven o'clock, and in rolls Derek Hale. She gives me the _is that later_ question in a look, and I nod. Her eyes go wide, and she smirks, winking at me. She shimmies her chest at me as she went back to cleaning the counter.

"Hey," he says, holding up a hand. "You ready?"

I nod. "Yeah, let me just wash up real quick, and grab my stuff, and we can go." I turn the water to warm and wash my hands, splashing my face also and drying them both. Derek's picking up coffee while he's here, Erica more than capable of getting his order just the way I make it.

I grab my bag and change out of my uniform, stuffing a twenty into the jar and slinging my bag over my shoulder. I winked to Erica as we went out, thankful that Derek didn't see that. But wait a second, if we're going with Derek, which means that...

No way.

He beeped his Camaro open, holding my door open for me. "After you."

I think I died inside a little when I sat in his car; the interior was a dark stormy gray, with a custom red line of light running through the whole bottom of the car. The radio and interior lights are blue and silver, giving perfect contrast to the red and black all around. I resisted the urge to stroke the interior, afraid that I would break something with relative ease.

I settle to put my hands in my lap, interlacing them, more than happy with this; nothing gets broken or scratched, and nobody gets hurt. The car roars to life, and then purrs as he guns out of the parking lot. If he wasn't attractive enough as it is, then this car made him even more so.

We were heading into the heart of the city by now, traffic starting to stockpile up from rush hour. What would normally take about ten minutes was about forty-five minutes. He clicked on a radio station, something that was easy listening, background music.

I clear my throat. "I like this music. It's soothing."

He nods. "Yeah, it really helps. Sometimes I just come out to my car and click this on when I need inspiration and to clear my mind." He was white knuckling it on the steering wheel, eyes focused forward on the road. He probably didn't like this a whole lot.

"Do you normally drive at this time of night?" He shakes his head.

"I always walk to the coffee shop, it's quicker. I'm only driving because I was pocking you up."  
"You didn't have to; I would have been alright with walking to your place. Or we could have taken my car." I felt guilty until he opened his mouth again.

"Are you kidding? With that neighborhood's track record, all I need are my rims to be stolen and my engine to be hijacked. No thank you, sir." I snorted at that fact.

I frowned. "Hey, now you've got me worrying about _my_ car and if it's going to be stolen." He didn't seem to worry about that.

"If your car appealed to them like mine did, then I would drive you back there to park it elsewhere." By then we had pulled into another underground parking complex. He pulled into a spot and turned the car off. He saw the worry on my face, and held his hand out. "If you want, I can go get it."

I shake my head. "No, it's fine. I don't want to ruin the moment." He quirked an eyebrow, before dropping it.

"Right... the moment." He got out of the car, coming around to get my own.

"Thank you, good sir." I resisted the urge to flourish, walking off towards what looked like the elevator. He grabs my hand, stopping me. It's a bit of a shock, from how warm it is.

"Actually, it's this way Stiles."

"Oh... my bad." I laugh nervously, sighing and getting quiet. Derek's hand doesn't leave mine the entire ride up, and it's kind of nice. Sadly, he removes his hand when he goes for his key. I stick my hand in my pocket to retain any of that earlier warmth. Seriously, how does a person get that warm?

"Here it is." He says awkwardly, opening the door wide. The first thing I notice is how warm it feels in here, even without any heat; it's just inviting and cozy, like a log cabin in the woods during winter. The next thing I noticed though were the views.

Those views were fucking incredible; he had panoramic view of the campus to the east, the town to the south, and the expanses of the forest and nature preserve to the north and west. The windows were about twelve feet tall, and took up a good seventy percent of the loft. The other thirty percent was a combo of a kitchen/dining area, bedroom and bathroom, living space and a secondary room that I didn't know what lead to.

I jumped when I heard Derek's voice behind me; I was so entranced that I had forgotten he was there. "What do you think?" I turn around; he's standing uncertainly, like he was nervous about something.

"Just that, I think you have the best views in all of California. I mean, god, Derek; what it must have taken to get this place!" He smiles, relaxing. Why does he seem so on edge?

"I've got plenty of money, so it was nothing." I didn't know Derek had money. A lot of money, by the sound of it. I quirked an eyebrow, but he shot me down with a look saying _another time._ Good enough for me.

"Can I get you anything to drink? Water, Orange Juice...?" I hold up a hand.

"I'm okay, thank you." I point that hand to the room. "What does that room lead to, if you don't mind me asking?"

A glint appears in his eye. Oh dear lord. "Let me show you."

I stand firm. "Wait, you aren't some kind of BDSM kink enthusiast and that's your playground you are about to subject me to, is it?" He closes his eyes, a bit drawn back from that question.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't just get asked that. And it's my studio, not a 'playground.' Wanted to ask your opinion on that drawing for your friend." That sounded exciting, so I nod.

He opens the door, and it reveals a surprisingly clean work area; various completed art pieces are stacked meticulously against the walls, while each different medium had a different section of storage, with each one labeled in an individual cubby. I scoff, looking around.

"What?" He asks, before looking around. "Trust me; you should have seen this place before I bought it."  
"Uh huh?" I ask, pushing him to continue.

"The four people that lived here were total slobs; I could smell all of the wasted turpenoid and medium. And the place was filthy, not just the studio; you should have seen what it took to get those windows spotless." I laugh; Derek was a bit of a Felix, and that made it funnier.

"Maybe I should call you Felix from now on instead of Derek." He scowled. I shrugged, hugging myself. "Are you going to show me the picture or not?" I could guess by now that it was probably under the tarp in the corner.

I was right, because he pulled off the tarp and there it stood. I went over to investigate it, gasping a bit when I could get up close and look at it.

I thought the quick sketch he had done of me was amazing. This was another level of incredible; he used what looked like an assortment of skin tones, as well as greys, blacks and whites, to give it some sort of sepia look to it. The picture he was using for reference was perfect; Scott had his arms around Allison's shoulders, eyes closed and kissing her cheek. She was laughing, and their love for each other was leaping out of the picture, which was, again, perfectly shot.

Derek used all of the pencils together in a smudging effect to give Allison's face that soft, buttery quality that is so beautiful. Her hair looked like you could run a hand through it from how realistic it looked. Her eyes and her teeth were the right shade and shape, everything sitting right where it should be.

Scott's face was trickier, I felt, because it was at a weird angle, and most of it was buried in Allison's hair. But he drew his face even through the hair, giving it a little bit of yellow to match his skin tone. I mean, he got all the way down to his eyelashes and slight change of light on his right cheek.

"Stiles," Derek called, loudly. I drew my eyes away from it, to look at it.

"Sorry, I just... Derek, I just can't believe this is all you. They just look so... wow." I couldn't fathom how much time and detail he must have taken to do this. "I mean, you even got that little scar on Scott's neck..." Wait, that was interesting; even I forgot it was there sometimes, how did he get it so clearly?

"Derek, that scar on his neck..." He cocks an eyebrow. "How did you get it? I can't even remember it's there sometimes..." He shrugs.

"I asked him if he had any details on his body that he wanted me to include; He showed me the scar, and I had a picture of it taken up close." That makes sense. A lot actually.

"You're a photographer too? Impressive." He shakes his head.

"No, my good friend Isaac took them for me; He's great too, and really needed portfolio pictures. I told him I could help him with that, while still helping me. We work well together, as you can tell." He gestured to several other photos of them; Scotts scar up close, blurred out, so it was easier to just barely put on there. Then up close on their faces, and in the hair, the mouth, nose, and any other part of the face.

"Derek, this is incredible. They're going to love it. It'll be the best present she'll get in her life, I bet." He smiles again.

"Thanks. I was thinking about doing a little bit more work on them now. You can watch if you want." I nod. I want to see this mastermind at work.

He pulls up his stool, positioning himself in front of it, pencils in hand. I sit next to him, watching him pin his picture, the nose on Allison, to the top of the drawing. He stared at the picture for about ten minutes, before grabbing his light brown pencil and dotting it around the sides of it. He had a napkin, smudging those, and continued dotting until he got the amount of pigment he wanted. This went on for about an hour and a half before he put the nose picture away. Somewhere in between, I had been bouncing so viciously, that I asked for a pencil and paper to keep myself busy.

When he stood, he looked over at what I was doodling; his hand was across my chair and the heat from his body was apparent. His brows furrowed as he tried to understand what was going on.

I scoff. "Does nobody get 'pointless doodling' around here? Really..." I had drawn something of a cross between a three-eyed flower plant and a harpy. She was wearing an assortment of skulls around her neck, and her legs were plant roots. I honestly don't know where half this crap comes from, but I can draw it well.

"I'm just not used to it, that's all..." he shrugs, before going to the door. "Come on; this room stays closed when I'm not in it." I raise my eyebrows, before getting up and leaving. He clicks off the light and closes the door, going over to the fridge and pulling out a Budweiser. He takes one look at me and pulls out a cup, filling it with water and sliding it to me before taking the cap off his bottle and taking a swig.

"You really love your art, don't you?" I ask, sipping my water timidly. He looks at me over the bottle, setting it down.

"What do you mean?" he asks, leaning against the island.

"Well, whenever my dad has a good day at work, he always cracks open the Bourbon. You seem pleased with that drawing, so you are drinking to it." I shrug, running my finger around the rim of my cup.

He smirks and comes around to where I'm sitting. He's standing a couple of inches away from me, looking down at me. "Or maybe it's just good to kick back every once in a while. They aren't going to stay good forever, you know." I wouldn't know; the only time I took a drink from dad's liquor cabinet was when I was fourteen and stupid. The whiskey burned going down, and I almost dropped the entire bottle on the ground. I had to brush my teeth for twenty minutes to make sure I got the smell out and hide it from my dad.

"Yeah, I guess..." He was just watching me, taking a drink from his bottle every so often. It was like he was studying me. It felt awkward, so I started squirming a bit.

"Well, it's late, so I probably should get back to my car. School tomorrow and all." He puts a hand on my arm, making me look at him. He wants something, but... what?  
Derek starts leaning in close. _Oh, is that it then? Well, Wham bam, thank you ma'am~_

"I have been thinking about that kiss for quite some time now." His breath was hot on my face, his tone husky and rough. His voice just enough to send chills down my spine. His hands move up to my face, overly warm at first, but not after a minute or two.

I don't remember who closed the distance, but we were kissing after that. I didn't get a chance last time to really revel in the feel of them, and I was determined to do so now.

I whimpered when he kissed me back, harder, tongue sliding past my lips into my mouth. He had put a knee on the chair between my legs, giving him more leverage and opening me up. I groan as he pushes back further, hands on the back of my chair. I was going to touch his face, but I was too busy with my hands in his back pockets to do so. He growled when I put them there; not like an angry growl, but like an "oh yeah, touch my butt" kind of growl.

After I officially ran out of air from that kiss, I broke free, breathing heavy. My heart was beating about a thousand miles a minute, making my breath ragged. He laid a hand on my chest, resting his forehead on mine and staring into my eyes. About as soon as he did that, and I closed my eyes, my heart started calming down. Forehead still touching, he took the cup of water I hadn't finished and drained it.

I whine. "Hey, maybe I wanted that." He licks his lips, getting any water he missed off. He filled the cup again, and handed it to me, which I thankfully downed. All was quiet between us, and we let our thoughts stew in it. I fidgeted with the cup while he looked out the window. My stomach grumbled, breaking the silence between us.

"Are you hungry?" Derek asks uncertainly. _Yeah, for a piece of you, mostly._

"Uh, a little... why?" Derek looked at me, breaking eye contact with the window.

"I can cook you something if you want..." He offered, walking back to his original spot.

I shrug. "Can you cook? Or is it just going to be something out of the freezer?" He just looks at me, making me quiet myself.

He pulls some stuff out of a cabinet, the fridge, as well as a skillet. I let him cook in silence, too entranced by the aromas swirling around me. By the time he slides a plate under me, I was obviously too entranced to notice had finished.

"What is it?" I ask, making him shrug. I notice eggs. Yes, definitely eggs. "Do you have ketchup?"

"Why do you need ketchup for that?" He asks as he pulls out ketchup from the fridge.

"I need them for anything with eggs. Not baked goods though," I add, squirting a dollop on the side of my plate, and taking a bite without it. My taste buds literally explode from it.

"Okay, are there drugs in this? Because, this is strangely good, yet addicting, yet perfect." I dig in more enthusiastically than I probably need to be.

"I call it 'messy marriage.'" He continues on. "Mostly because that signifies what it is; two different people coming together without working out their problems, yet seeming perfectly harmonious." He waits a minute. "Is it alright?" I nod through a mouthful of peppers and some Asian vegetable.

"It's something I throw together when I need something quick. It's about all I ate when I was first starting out in College." When I finished, he took the plate and washed it, even the ketchup which had sat completely untouched. He doesn't like food to go wasted; thank god he made me something that was that good.

We talked a little bit more before I decided I had to get home; Ten Forty-Five on a school night? I can hear the mothers cringe at that. Derek offers to just drive me home and park my car later on, but I turn that down; even I need some quiet time from tonight.

When he stops outside of my jeep, he pulls me into his arms and gives me another kiss. I'm telling ya, I could get used to this whole 'kiss and don't tell' thing. The 'not telling' part being my dad and Scott, or anybody for that matter. He released me, making my face feel warm and giddy like a teenage girl after her first kiss.

He pulled back. "I'm going to be busy for a few days. Text me though, I'll answer if I can." I nod, excited for that. "Good night, Stiles." He says, walking back to his car. I sit in my car, feeling on top of the world right now. Or, at least, pretty damn close. I ran my hand over my face, making sure I was awake. Wait… Face. Face. Derek's Face! God damn it, I forgot to feel his stubble! I grumbled, disappointed in that. But, I did get to feel his butt, so it was an okay consolation prize. But I will touch it one day, I swear to all that is Holy!


	9. Chapter 9

I liked kissing Derek. I think it was meant to be, our lips; like, they had to be together and had to be kissing because it just felt so right. My lips still felt warm from when we broke free. Maybe it was time for me to be dreamy and lovestruck instead of Scott. I like that idea.

When I got home, I shot a text over to Derek.

'Stiles: So, are we a thing now or something?'

A few minutes later he replied. 'Derek: You could say that, yes. Is that alright with you?'

I held in my over-excitement. 'Stiles: Yeah. I'm totally okay with that. :)'

'Derek: well alright... Have fun at school tomorrow.'

'Stiles: Yeah. Have a good week yourself.'

I unlocked my front door, resisting the urge to turn to jelly and/or jump for joy at the same time. Lucky my dad wasn't home so that I wouldn't have to explain why I was grinning so big.

When Derek wasn't neither texting me _or_ visiting me, the week went by agonizingly slow. Gladly, I had my job at the coffee shop to preoccupy my weekend. But on the weekdays? Totally head bashing worthy. What was Derek doing that was so important that he didn't have time to see me? I didn't look into it, but part of me wanted to.

I was tuning out Scott, as usual, because the conversation started with Allison; her party was a week away, and Derek apparently was still doing a lot of big areas of the drawing, making him worried he wouldn't finished. Then he switched back to her again.

It was the end of his sentence that caught my attention. "...they found bites on a lot of things."

I look back at him. "Bites? Like, Mountain Lion? Cougar? Jaguar? Wolf?" I laughed at the last one, well aware that wolves didn't come out this far.

Scott gave me a straight on look. "No, get this; the bites looked like something from a _human._ Except the canines," He pointed to his fangs-damn, they looked really pointy as of late-and made Dracula motions.

"It's not a vampire; it's a supernatural impossibility." He rolled his eyes. Obviously he had seen way too many vampire movies.

"Never said it was. Just, they think that there is something non-human out there eating animals. And I don't like it, especially this close to Allison's Birthday; what if, whatever that thing is, comes and wreaks havoc on that day?"

"I doubt it; if it's eating animal flesh, then it's probably not interested in _human_ flesh." I pause. "By the way, how is Derek? You said you saw him a few days ago to check in?"

He nods. "He looks... happier. Like, before, he would just be kind of broody and quiet. But now, he's better; more talkative, has more life in his eyes and face. Hell, he even cracked a smile once or twice." he shudders. "It just adds to the creepy factor when he does that."  
I laugh half-heartedly. "Well, at least he's doing this for you two. I hope you have been playing nice with him, and haven't been just totally disrespecting him." After he nods, agreeing to that, we talk about the Lacrosse game; the semi-finals are tonight and, guess what, I'm benching again. Go Team! I say.

"Just be ready for tonight; I have a weird feeling about this game," Scott says cautiously. "Like, something is going to go down that isn't good for anybody." he adds, worry crossing his face.

"Don't worry too hard about it; Just be sure of your surroundings, and don't do anything crazy dangerous." The bell rings. Time to practice good sitting positions for the big game tonight, right?

* * *

Surprisingly, Coach Finstock has me play goalie; he needs me prepared in case of injuries, because, from what I hear, this team we're playing are monsters. Well, then again, maybe the Marchstone Monsters of Marchstone High School was any indication. Yeah, you're probably right; I don't get the reference either.

I'm sweaty and achy by the time we are done, mostly because they are going full on beast so I can be prepared. I mean, I did an okay job, but thirty-five percent of the balls still got past me. Maybe we could squeak out a victory? We'd have to see.

Scotts grinning when we finally leave practice, showing me the text from Derek; the drawing is done, and it's getting the final touches tonight. But it's done. And Scott is obviously relieved.

"I'll send you a picture of it tomorrow, okay?" he runs off when I nod, turning to go to Calculus.

When I get home, dad is sitting at the table, not in his work clothes. He's looking out the window, lost in thought. This can't be good.

"Dad?" I ask, making him turn around.

"Hey son." he replies, turning back so he's not facing the window.

"Why aren't you dressed for work?" I ask, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge.

"Well, I decided to take the day off." I raised an eyebrow. "Son, I need to talk to you about something. And no, I'm not reiterating from that last conversation." The shock must have been written on my face. "The school called me about a C in your History class, a-"  
I cut him off. "Oh god, Dad, I'm sorry! I swore I was going to turn that assignment in tomorrow, he said I would have just under an A- when I turned it in, and..." he didn't seemed worried. "Wait, you aren't mad about that?"

"No, I'm not. You're a good kid, and I know you can raise that up to an A. The other thing they told me, though, was that you were most likely playing tonight in the game."

I laugh nervously. "Jeez, dad, just make me freak out." I sit down across from him. "Yeah, I was actually doing something during training, because, well, the Marchstone Monsters are just as the name implies, apparently."

"Well, I'm proud of you, regardless." Joy crosses his face, taking ten years off. I nod, suddenly realizing the horrible smell. It's me.

"Yeah, I'm going to go shower now, because, well, I stink. Really bad." I get up, putting my empty glass in the dishwasher and go to head upstairs.

"I wish your mom could see you now."

I stop dead. I turn back around, looking at my dad; the joy was replaced with sadness. He continues.

"Stiles, you're such a great kid; you don't stay out late, or do drugs, or anything out of the ordinary." He stops, looking at me. "You don't, right?"

I shake my head, leaning my body against the wall.

He continues. "It's hard, in fact it's _really_ hard sometimes being an only parent. And I wish you could have seen how much she loved you; she always talks about a greatest achievement in her life, but I think all along she knew it was you who she was most proud of."

It was getting harder to keep a straight face. "Dad," I choke out, but he holds a hand up.

"When she was in the hospital, almost all of her joy and happiness gone, I thought she would be gone before it was over. But when she would see you, when you would hold her hand or lay next to her, I saw some of that warmth fill her face, the smile I had gotten so used to come back a bit." He inhales, keeping on. "It's just... I sometimes wake up and forget where she's gone. And, god damn it, it's difficult sometimes to even just get up and keep going. But when I see how well you are doing, and how much she meant to you, how much of her is in you, it gives me the energy I didn't expect to have after all this time." His eyes were shiny by now, and I could feel tears running down my face. "I miss her, Stiles. I miss her more than anything itself. I can't sometimes get the images of-"

I cut him off, by speaking louder. "Dad!" I choke out again. He looks at me. "I know. I really do. Don't you think I miss her too? It's sometimes all I think about." I wipe my face, getting myself back under control. "If there was anything to bring her back, I would." I shrug, looking away and feeling more tears fall. "You aren't alone in this; I'm the one who cries over it still to this day." He stands up, crossing to where I am and wraps his arms around me. "I Love you dad. Just as much as I do Mom." I say into his neck, wiping my face on his shirt.

"I love you too, Son. I always will." he pulls back, wiping the water from the rims of his eyes. I blink away any more tears, pulling away from his embrace and leaning against the wall. Crying always takes a lot out of me, so I feel sleepy. But, with the lacrosse game tonight, as well as what feels like a wave of snot starting to come from my nose, I pull myself together and head upstairs.

* * *

I'm gathering my clothes for the shower, my mindset somewhere else that it takes me a while to notice a knocking on the windows. Turning around, Derek's standing there. I unlatch the window and pull it open. He stands there awkwardly, looking at me.

"You never told me your mom was gone." He winces at the tone. "Sorry, I shouldn't have asked. That was out of line."

I shrug. "It's fine. And you never asked." His hands are in his pocket, watching me still. I exhale, looking at him. "When I was four, my mom collapsed. They pulled me out of school early so I could go see her. They said it was some kind of deadly form cancer, and she didn't have much time to live." I scratch my neck, continuing. "I didn't understand it at the time, me being four. Over the next eight weeks or so, it was tense in the house; Dad drank, and I did what I could not to be the brunt of his drunken rages."

Derek swallows. I keep going still. "It was fall, her favorite season, when I hear she's passed away. Dad is unrelatable at this time, so Scott's mom takes me off his hands for a while to grieve. We became friends this way, even with him stealing my salmon crayon." Pause. "After a few months, Dad is ready to have me back; he's no longer drunk or passed out, and he looks like he's been rubbed raw. But, he was okay, I felt. We got through it alright, despite the times I could occasionally hear him crying... or drinking." I cringe slightly at that last part. He was off the alcohol at that time, but sometimes it got bad.

Derek was unreadable at this time, staring at the ground. He opens his mouth, unsure of how to begin. He settles on "and where were you at this time? Mentally."

I think about that one. "I don't know, really. I mean, I knew my mom was gone, and I grieved as expected, but... I was surprisingly okay. Didn't mean I wasn't missing her even to this day." I shake my head. I feel emotions start to rise, and I can't risk that happening again. Doesn't stop a tear from rolling out past my eyes.

Derek looks up, crossing over to stand in front of me. He raises a hand, making me jump, before wiping it away with his thumb. It leaves a warm path on my cheek. "I'm sorry about what you had to deal with so young." He swallows. "I had something similar happen to me. I wasn't as young, but I wasn't old enough to be okay." I look at him. He rests his forehead against mine, before going on.

"You know the old burned down house in the woods?" I nod. "My family and I used to live there. When I met a girl, and she wormed her way into my life..." he growls, deep down, remembering this trauma. I rub a hand over his bicep.

"You don't have to say anything; I'm not expecting you to." He shakes his head, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"I want to. You've opened yourself enough to me in the past. I need to return the favor." I close my eyes, nodding, urging him to continue.

"Anyways, she wormed her way into my life. My family told me she was bad news, to back off and get rid of her. But I didn't, of course; I was stupid and sixteen too." I never thought about a teenage Derek Hale, except that I imagined a pimple prone, long haired, socially awkward teenager. I didn't acknowledge this, but I let him keep going.

"She, she got a group of her friends together, and when she thought I was seeing someone else behind her back... gasoline was involved. She didn't expect the house to burn that fast; or the fact that me and my sister, Laura, were at a diner because she had gotten back from New York for winter break; she was a lawyer and a really good one too. I would hate to go up against her in any court." By now he's removed his forehead, and is staring off.

"Anyways, I could feel something was wrong. And when I heard the people shouting-they were saying 'The Hale house is on fire! Call the fire department-I hadn't run any faster in my life. When I saw what she had done, what her idiotic, psychotic friends had done too..." he shivers, as if remembering it in perfect detail. "I wasn't the one who she had to worry about; I closed my eyes at the screaming of my family, crying out, reaching out for any sign of help. I heard the four of them scream, and when I opened my eyes, they were all dead. She tossed them into the fire, to hid evidence." I could hear the tears forming, from his voice.

"I lived in New York with her while she finished college. But, then I came back to go to the college I am attending, since I dreamed about it." He braces himself on the wall, calming himself down. I understood now; Derek Hale wasn't distant for a reason. He wasn't reserved, or broody, or even somewhat mean to Kate for a reason; Derek Hale was broken. He didn't have anybody or anything here, except some memories he won't ever be able to get rid of, and an art degree. I crossed and hugged him from behind.

"I'm so sorry. I never knew about that until now, and it is awful what she did. It is unthinkable even. But, you don't have to worry about her. Or anybody else, for that matter." He turns around, looking at me. His eyes were wet too, but he wasn't on the verge of tears.

"And why is that?" He asks voice shaky.

"Because," I say, uncertain. "You've got me."

His jaw tenses, and then relaxes, and he kisses me. I kiss him back, my tears falling. He breaks free, kissing wherever the tear would be, or rubbing a thumb over them, the salty taste lingering on his lips and tongue. He pushes me against a wall, slides a leg between my own, kissing my nose, eyes, jaw, neck, making me groan. I hold onto his shoulders, looking for any kind of support. He kisses me until I'm breathing ragged; he had his hands under my shirt, his own jacket stripped off, and my hands on his arms. I was the one comforting this stronger man, and he was trying all he could to heal my own pain, trying desperately to heal my broken heart.

His eyes were low lidded, looking straight in my own, hand on my heart. I don't feel any more tears, but I feel the pressure of them behind my eyes. I rested my head on his shoulder, breathing in his scent and listening to his steady breathing. I look up at him, before he pulls away. He puts his jacket back on, lifting my head to look at him. He kisses my forehead, doing what seems like smelling me.

"Thank you," he says against my forehead.

I smile weakly. "Welcome. Thanks for listening to me."

He goes to leave, before turning around to look again. "You might want to fix _that"_ he says, before leaving. I furrow my eyebrows, and go check in the bathroom.

"Shit." I say, covering my neck; Derek Hale has left me the mother of all hickeys, right across my neck. _And of all nights, too, _I say to myself.

* * *

After a good shower, nose low and search for how you can reduce the size of a hickey, I'm finally ready to head over to the game. My dad looks at me funny when I pull a frozen spoon out of the freezer, holding it to my neck, but decides not to question it. He clears his throat, anxious to change subjects.

"So, uh... Do you want me to drive you over there?" I shake my head.

"No, it's going to be another forty-five minutes to an hour before the game starts. So I'll head over there and just get ready for the game, and you can relax. Thanks for the offer though." I then think about something. "Dad, do we have a small ice chest?" He nods, going out to the garage and pulling a small plastic lunchbox out. "Great! Can you fill that with ice, and then put the spoons in there? I gotta go do something before I go. Thanks!" I say all of this quickly, and before he can protest. I go up to my room, turn off my laptop after firing an e-mail out to Scott with my excitement, pray to some mythical deity that I do okay this game, not embarrass my dad one bit, and head out.

I hear the flapping in the windowsill right before I leave, noticing a note.

"I'll be watching the game from afar. Crack some skulls." I grin, tucking the note in my pocket; that would be my good luck charm. That would hopefully propel us into the finals.


	10. Chapter 10

Dad threw the ice in the chest, as well as the spoons into the box. Thanking him, I take one of the cold spoons and quickly replace it with my now warm spoon. "I'll see you at the game tonight, alright?" He nods, holding up a hand.

"Good luck, son!" He's reading through his paper, skimming the news section.

* * *

When I had my third spoon pressed against my neck, I was walking into the locker room. Nobody paid me any attention, except Scott, who looked me funny, wrinkling his nose.

"Oh no, man, I showered before I got here. What's the deal?" I sniffed myself again; I smelled like deodorant, which was exactly the point.

"No, it's not that, it's just... you _smell,_ like, Derek was all over you." Then he sees the spoon pressed to my neck. "Dude, did he give you a hickey?" A few eyes pop up to look at me. I remove the spoon, getting mixed reactions; Scott looks disgusted, and turns away to finish putting on his gear; Danny laughs, before regaining composure and going back to whatever he was doing; Jackson doesn't believe for a second that anybody would give me one, so he looks incredulous. And then there is the rest of the team, asking me dorky questions and earning eye rolls in the process.

Halfway through changing into my gear, Coach Finstock came in. "alright, men. I've got a slight change in schedule." This couldn't be good; last time this happened, we ended up forfeiting a game because we didn't show. Because, apparently, he thought a game was two days after the rescheduled date.

"So, you all know how the finals were on the eighteenth of January? Well, apparently, there is some drama with the finalists for our game. They have been accused of apparently smuggling drugs, and how they were under the influence for their winning game, and yadda yadda yadda. So, until we figure it out, they have rescheduled the game to February fifteenth. Or, something later than that... I just don't really have finite specifics."

Then he continued on about how the other team was going to be smashed, and the plan, and everything that didn't pertain to me. I sat in silence, finishing putting on my gear, and tuning it out. Was Derek really going to risk showing his face? Was my dad going to think I'm a total klutz? Oh god, what if I miss catching the ball? I don't feel so good...

"Stilinski! Pay attention!" I jumped, turning to face him. "Now, as I was saying, I need you focused; you are the goalie after all..." I do a double take.

'C-Coach? I don't think I heard you right... You said some nonsense about me being goalie, which I'm not sure what you-"  
"I did say that. Unless you want to be a benchwarmer again, stop the yammering!" I shut my mouth automatically.

"Yes sir!" He seemed to like that. Whatever though. Okay, seriously? That was my last spoon? I check the mirror; the hickie is almost gone, but it's still lingering. Yuck.

* * *

The air was cold, our breaths showing in front of us in the cold. I, of course, forget to bring my layers, so I'm just sitting here like a Popsicle while everyone gets to move and get warm. Great. Maybe if I'm lucky, my nads won't freeze off by the end of tonight. I look around, for signs of people I know; Sure enough, I spot my dad, sitting next to Scott's mom. I wave a hand, catching his attention. He looks way more nervous than I do, which is surprising. But there is no sign of Derek anywhere, so I'm a little sad.

The whistle blows. _Okay, stop getting lovestruck; this is serious now._

_Oh gosh, his stubble._

"Gah!" I scream to myself, shaking the thought out. The nice thing is that nobody seems to notice. Mostly because their eyes are on the opposing team. Because, good lord, they _do_ live up to their mascots name. Two of the guys are already out, before the game can even begin.

I tell ya though, for not getting along almost at all, Scott and Jackson are like one person; whenever Scott or Jackson would have possession of the ball, they would do some move that could possibly cost them their life, and throw the ball to the other player, who was thankfully in shot of the net. But the goalie was amazing, his eyes focused on every little detail and movement. There were three times when I thought it was a trick of the eye; Scott threw a wicked bounce curveball, and the goalie would _just_ have enough time to protect the goal. Our school groaned when that would happen, me being one of them.

That's when they came for me; my team did a pretty good job of keeping them away from me, but it only lasted so long. By the time they were barreling towards me, I realize how big these guys are; they stand all at probably six foot five if not taller, basically giants against my five foot five stature. The main guy got ready to swing.

"Oh no." I say to myself. Pulls his arm back.

Oh my god, I'm going to have a broken something.

The ball goes flying towards me. I put my stick out in some way to protect me and...

_Fwoosh._

No broken bones. No injuries. Nothing. Instead, the ball is sitting precariously in my stick. I caught a goal. I caught a goal! Oh my god, I caught a goal. I can't believe I did that. Cheers filled my ears, mixed in with groans from the other team, completely dumbstruck as to how I caught that.

_Okay, off the ego train._ When the whistle blew, I threw it back in. This was good. We were up two points. This couldn't go wrong.

* * *

Sadly, you don't ever want to say that when you have a small lead. The Monsters completely steamrolled us in the second and third quarter, eking out a sixteen point lead, 18-2 in their favor. I hadn't seen Derek anywhere either, my mind worrying like any dumb teenager in love would; I first worried if he was injured, or, maybe he was busy and couldn't make it. My phone hadn't buzzed since the game started, so maybe that wasn't it. That's until I saw it, out of the corner of the field.

Derek was standing, looming, from behind a tree. He was watching me cautiously, a little bit more than amused over the game. I was happy he made it. Ecstatic even. Until the ball collided face first into my nose.

First off, it was white for a second. Then the pain came screeching in, leaving everything red. There was no easing into the flow of blood; it was just one big 100% faucet turn to full. I couldn't breathe, except out of my mouth, and my eyes were still seeing the edges of white. Derek stepped out of the cover of trees, making me shake my head. He realized the situation, stepping back into his cover.

Then coach came sprinting over, looking at my nose. "Shit, Stilinski; you took a ball at ninety miles per hour. We need to get you a hospital, soon."

"No!" I say, standing up. "I'm finishing this."

"Listen, kid, it's great, your enthusiasm, but, this looks really bad..."

I rolled my eyes. "I've lost more blood in my lifetime; there's ten minutes left, I can finish." Coach's eyes bore into mine, before nodding.

"Very well. We'll see you to an EMT after the game." he goes over to the referee, to tell them to continue. I see my dad, who's restrained by Scott's mom, in which he seriously wants to pummel the stupid kids face in. The kid gives my dad a snide look, before walking off. _Oh hell no,_ I think to myself. This means war.

For the next ten minutes, the only thing on our minds was _get back those points._ Scott and Danny-Jackson fell on his arm pretty bad in the second quarter, them saying he would need a cast- were doing all they could. Scott was going full force, doing jumps and sprints and spins I had never seen him do before. Twice he saved the ball coming at my head, glancing at me before going back the other way.

His eyes glew. Like a serious glow; they looked golden, but I wasn't sure. Was this a trick of the eye? Maybe I was getting delirious from the amount of blood lost. Which, by the way, had staunched four or five minutes later. I also felt it start to throb, a sign that it was starting to heal. Weird, normally I didn't heal for a few days. I wasn't complaining though.

Two minutes left of the game, and we're down 21-23. I didn't need to do much, because Scott was doing most of the work; Danny was just holding them off enough. He scored again. 22. Then he scored again after that. 23. We were tied. We were tied! Ms. McCall was on her feet, screaming and cheering for her son, who obviously deserved MVP like no other. I think he was going to get it too. There was sixty seconds left. Scott had been thrown down. Then they started safeguarding him, making sure he wouldn't get in the way. The same guy who nose boned me came charging at me, knocking Danny off his feet and six feet back, landing with a sickening _crunch_ on his leg; even from here, I could hear the way his ankle tried, but could not support the sudden twist and amount of weight, and just giving out. Danny's out. Scott's out. There wasn't anybody else sitting on the bench. It was just me basically.

Twenty Seconds left. He's ten feet away.

Seventeen seconds left, he's getting ready to swing. Am I going to die?

Fifteen seconds left, the fire in his eyes is pure hatred. Yep, I'm totally going to die.

Eleven seconds left, I, by some miracle, catch the ball.

Seven second left, I'm in shock. Finstock is screaming at me to throw the ball.

Five seconds left, I'm reeling back to throw.

Four seconds, it goes way too curvy. Well, I lost it for us.

Three seconds. Scott gets out of the guard.

Two seconds, he catches the ball, spins out, and pulls his stick back.

One...

_Fwoosh!_ Whistle blow. Last second score! We won 24-23! We made the finals!

The stadium erupted in a flurry of screaming, cheers, whooping and hollering, and the groaning from the other team. It was a great sound. Something I could probably listen to for hours if I had the chance. A good chunk of the crowd swallows Scott. Another chunk swallows me. The rest go to help the injured team members. I hear my dad somewhere go "my son scored the winning goal! That was my son who scored it!" He was overjoyed.

Then I see Derek's face. He's smiling, nodding. I don't know how I can see that, but I can. And it just feels so right. I feel coaches hand on my shoulder; he's grinning at me, but his eyes are full of worry. "Great job, Stilinski. Now let's get you that doctor." It was then I realized I had a partially broken nose. The pain came back like a wallop to the face. Probably because someone ruffled my hair and accidentally grazed my nose.

* * *

The EMT is looking over my nose, Dad supervising behind me. She seems confused. "Well, your nose isn't as broken as it looked ten minutes ago. I swear, though, I could literally _feel_ the cartilage shatter to pieces. But, it all seems to have healed in a few short minutes." She huffs, before grabbing stuff out of her bag. She puts some sort of splint on it, securing it and putting something on to make it extra tight.

"This will definitely help. But it's going to need stitches tomorrow. Head over to the hospital there to get them done. Okay?" She looks at my father, who nods, before back to me. "Now, you will probably be pretty weak, and woozy from losing all that blood. But, just take it easy tonight, and you will be okay in a few days." She smiles warmly at me, before gathering her things and leaving.

"Son, I'm... I'm so..." I stop him.

"You're proud of me. I know. So am I." He smiles, before carefully wrapping me in a manly hug. I return it awkwardly, before stepping back.

"Let me drive you home. I can pick up your car tomorrow." His face gets stern when I refuse. "Son, you could pass out at the wheel. I don't want you to crash."

I laugh. "Dad, if I lost that much blood, AND was able to throw that winning spin curve, do you think I'm going to go unconscious?" He sees my reasoning.

"Just be careful." I nod, grabbing my bag and heading out to my car.

Being careful I don't think included Derek Hale. But what he doesn't know won't hurt him.

Derek is leaning against the side of my car, looking displeased. I furrow my brows.

"Okay, what is the deal?" I ask, folding my arms. "I won the game! You should be happy for me!"  
"I am," he says dully, before going over to me. "Just, you should have gone with the EMT."

"And not score that winning spin curve? I don't think so."

"I think Scott was the one who put it in the basket." He corrected me.

"Oh no, you are _not_ taking that away from me; I basically got the damn ball to him. He just conveniently put it in there for me." I look at him, smiling; he has this funny, peculiar look on his face. "What?" I ask, giggling a bit.

"Nothing. Just that, I have the urge to do something regretful to you as a celebratory measure." I hear a growl low in his body, and he puts a hand under my elbow, clearly to hold me up.

My heart is beating a bit quicker now. My voice stays firm. "Oh yeah? Well, what are you waiting for?"

He appreciates this; grabbing my back, he pulls me into a kiss, his lips hungry against my own. I open my lips, letting his tongue dive deep into my mouth.

He groans, making me jump when I realize I'm pinned to my car. He growls, not liking the height difference. So he hitches me up, holding me at even levels, stuck between my car and him. I instinctively wrap my legs around him, pulling him closer. I intertwine my arms around his shoulders, as he kept his hands on my ass. He palms my ass through my jeans, obviously wanting more than what we are doing currently.

I wrap my legs around his hips, pulling him closer to me. He's licking all down my neck, biting and leaving _more_ hickies for me to hide.

I grin against his mouth. "I have to hide these, you know; my dad doesn't know we're a thing yet." he stops, looking at me. "Emphasis on the word _yet_, because, if you haven't noticed, I like this a hell of a lot more than you think. Just, please; don't stop." He pushed his lips back onto mine. He sets me down, looking at me.

"Now what?" I ask, agitated. I wanted to kiss him again, more than anything.

"I'm taking you home. This is too awkward." I groan. I don't know if he's going to keep kissing me, or if he's just stopping me. I give him my keys, getting into my side of the car.

As he gets in the driver seat and gets the car started, I whine. "Why can't we just go back to your place? It's nicer there, and free of distractions."

Derek shoots me a look, before leaving the school parking lot. "Your dad is expecting you home, and if you just disappear, don't you think he'll freak out?" He runs a hand along my inner thigh, making me shudder.

"Yeah, you're right. Just, keep driving. Don't take your eyes off the road." I lean back in my seat, groaning at how his hands are giving the right amount of pressure. He stops a half mile outside of my house, getting out.

"You pull up to the house, and I'll be in your room when you get up there." he runs off after that, making me awkwardly slide into the driver's seat. When I got inside, dad wanted to make sure I got to bed alright, but I said I would be fine, trying not to just ignore him and book it for my room. Trying not to act like there is a hunk of a man in my bedroom right now!

I did promise to take a pain killer before I went to bed, so he wouldn't totally freak out and check on me later. I'd take it later, since there were prior engagements to take care of.

I got in my room, the door being shut behind me forcefully as Derek slams me into the wall, smashing his lips onto mine. He hits my nose whilst doing this, making me gasp loudly.

"Sorry." he says, eyes hungry for more. I laugh.

"Just... take it slow. Alright?" He nods, before kissing me again. Once more, he grazes my nose, making me groan. The first time he kissed me, I could deal with the pain. But each time he'd try to kiss me again, he would just be hitting my nose. Soon I was pulling away, shaking my head.

"I'm sorry, this is... I'm just in too much pain. Doesn't mean I don't want to kiss you, it's just, not when I have a broken nose." He looks at me, slightly disappointed, before nodding.

"I'll get your painkiller then." He leaves my room and comes back with two pills and a glass of water, which I take thankfully. Painkillers had the tendency to make me tired, so I'm yawning and struggling to stand up.

"Can I fall asleep on you? Please? You can leave if you can hear my dad coming upstairs, what with your crazy super hearing and all." I put on my best pleading look, until he finally caves and does so.

I yawn. "Thank you. Seriously, you're like the perfect temperature for sleeping on."

He scoffs. "Yeah, so I've been told."

I look at him, eyelids drooping. "Really? By who?"

"Go to sleep. I'll tell you in the morning." I nod, before letting sleep take over.


End file.
